The most logical place to start this story is just over a year ago, on July 5, 2025. We had been invited to brunch with Clint’s uncles and it was one of those days that I just couldn’t get out of my own way and get it together. I remember I was just coming back from my run when Clint was already getting dressed and ready to leave. I told him I wasn’t sure I was going to make it and to go without me so he wouldn’t be late. I did end up getting out of the house but by the time I was driving, Clint was already on his way home so I just turned around and followed him back to the house. See, I told you it was one of those days.

When we both got home, as Clint was telling me about the brunch that I missed, he mentioned that his uncle Peter was talking about how the family restaurant was for sale and it would be great if someone in the family would buy it. We already had a food business so I said, well, let’s actually talk about what it might look like if we bought it. We talked about what we might do with it, ran some “back of the napkin” math, and realized there is pretty much no way we could afford it, even if we sold our house, used that money for a down payment, and lived at the restaurant. So, after much pondering off and on over the years, we finally put that idea to bed for good.

During the conversation, though, Clint mentioned that it would be great to have a commercial kitchen because it would open us up to larger events, give us the ability to do drop-off catering, and maybe we could even package and sell wholesale food to stores and other restaurants. We had some errands to run that afternoon so we kept brainstorming as we drove around, talking about how we might get access to a commercial kitchen. You may have heard, Clint is the master of the soup, and we were trying to come up with a way to get the soup to the people. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember my response was:

“Am I finally going to get you into a food truck?!”

If I can take this story back a little bit further, I have wanted to have a food business for a long time, long before I woke up with the idea for Elevated Gatherings. If a restaurant came up for sale, I would say, let’s buy it. If I saw a food truck or cart out on the street, I would say, let’s get one of those. Every single time prior to starting Elevated Gatherings, Clint would shoot me down. He’d say, you don’t want to own a restaurant, or, you don’t want to cook in a food truck, and I would say, you are probably right, and that would be the end of it.

So this time, I couldn’t believe it when he said, it sounds like maybe we are getting into a food truck. This might finally be the time. I had no idea what we could possibly be getting into, but suddenly, it seemed the food truck might actually come to fruition.

We continued talking about what we might do with a food truck and decided something that focused on soups, sandwiches, and maybe burgers would be the way to go. At the time, Clint had moved out of the kitchen job he had and was working as a trainer, and I was working part-time and running our business like I had been for a while. We figured we’d work the hours we could at our jobs to make sure we had at least a little bit of income, but our full-time gig would be the food truck.

At first, things didn’t move too fast. I talked to a few banks to get an idea on if we could get a loan, I did a little internet research on what trucks were out there, but we didn’t really go too hard at it because we figured there was no way we’d be up and running in 2025 and I didn’t want to be paying back a loan for something that was just going to sit in my driveway for months until spring came around.

Around September, I officially picked up the loan packet from our bank and started a conversation with a food truck builder in western NY. Things seemed to be moving along, albeit slower than I would have hoped. We dealt with our local bank and as nice as they are, I don’t think they have heard of DocuSign and it was a lot of waiting for things to come in the mail and then signing and driving them back to the bank. What I thought would take a few weeks ended up taking two months, but we did get the money. When I reached back out to the builder to pay my deposit and get things rolling, he was nowhere to be found. No response to my messages. I thought this might be a sign that a brand new one was not for us, and started looking for something used.

The other relevant thing that happened around this time is that Clint got offered a job back in the kitchen, this time as the head chef, and he took it. Suddenly our plan to run things together turned into either I do it by myself or we don’t do it. I decided I’d figure out how to do it by myself and we kept pressing on.

We closed on our loan in January and I immediately hit the good old Facebook Marketplace. I generally find it frustrating and full of jerks and weirdos, but my dad loves it and has success quite often, buying and selling things. In fact, when I was at his house not long before we closed on the loan, he pulled up the marketplace while we were talking to show me how many food trucks were on there. He was right, there were many. Some better than others.

We decided it made more sense to buy something we could tow than something we had to drive, because most of the drive-it trucks in our budget were from the 1980’s. The first two trailers we looked at were not that good. One did not even have a work table and was definitely not going to meet health or fire code, but the seller was friendly anyway. The second one was decent, although it did still have some old grease in the fryer and some questionable electrical work. The main problem with that one, though, was that Clint couldn’t stand up in it because the ceiling was too low. I know I said this was going to primarily be my gig, but I still want him to fit into it. That guy was really nice too but we passed.

After that, we looked at a couple more that weren’t going to be the one, and then I thought I really did find the one. It was huge, full of every piece of equipment we could possibly want, and the price seemed right. The only problem was it was going to be too heavy for me to tow with my beloved 4Runner. Clint has wanted to buy a full-size truck for a while though, I just would always tell him he can’t have one, but wouldn’t you know it, he found something he really liked at Kinderhook Toyota. I finally gave in and now we are the owners of a beautiful white Tundra. It is actually quite nice, albeit very large.

Tundra aside, the more I dealt with the seller of this particular trailer, the more I just didn’t like him and didn’t want to give him my money. And he still had last year’s grease in the fryer and I just didn’t want to buy someone’s dirty old grease. Like, what else was he hiding? Anyway, after some hemming and hawing, talking to a few more dealers of new, custom-built arrangements, I found this funny little pink and blue one on the marketplace. It was so unique and once we saw it in person, I knew it was going to be trouble, but I knew I had to have it. The seller was super nice, and I just thought if we are doing a food truck like no one else, we just had to have a food truck like no one else. Plus, it was so small and cute and once I saw it I knew I couldn’t be happy in some big, black, box like everyone has.

On March 29, we brought that little trailer home, and then the real work began.

I’ll attempt to shorten the various speedbumps because I don’t want to relive them in great detail and many of you probably already heard me complain about this stuff when it was happening anyway. If I had a dollar for every time I said I am in food truck hell, I’d have many dollars. Let’s just say, everything took longer than I thought it would, was more expensive than I thought it could be, and more things needed fixing or replacing than I could have imagined. I had to go to the DMV three times before I got it registered. The paint job that was supposed to take two weeks took almost two months. The water tanks in there didn’t meet health code so we had to replace them. The water heater didn’t work, and the first one I bought to replace that didn’t work either. I roped our poor nephew into doing the plumbing for us, and he was such a good sport; he only said once that he regretted offering to help me.

Finally, at the end of June into the beginning of this month (July 2026), things started to feel like they just might come together. We got the graphics done and they look perfect. Our fire suppression system passed inspection. The second electrician I hired fixed the first electrician’s work. And then it was time for the health department inspection. I’d been sweating this one for months now. What if the kitchen isn’t clean enough? What if our hot water isn’t hot enough? What if, what if, what if? I just kept scrubbing every surface I could, even getting down on my hands and knees to scrub the floor, twice. Clint told me I had to stop because the only way to have a spotless kitchen is to buy a brand new kitchen and never cook anything. I did eventually stop scrubbing, but only because it was time for the inspection. Which, for the record, went perfectly and we got our permit by email that afternoon.

So I guess that’s the end of the story. We really did do it.

Back in March, I committed to a gig at the end of this month. When the organizer asked if I’d be ready by then, I said:

“By July? For sure. If I’m not ready in July I’ll sell everything and give up.”

I didn’t realize how close I would be cutting it. But I suppose I’m as ready as I’m going to be, and now there’s nothing left but to show up, cook the food, and do the thing. And keep showing up, keep cooking the food, and keep doing the thing. I spent a lot of money and it would sure be nice to get some of it back. I didn’t know you could put a price on a dream, but it turns out you can and I have a spreadsheet to prove it.