Puzzles and Games
An Excavator, a Dozer, and a Grader Walk Into a Bar…
So one Friday evening after a long, dusty week on a highway job, an excavator, a bulldozer, and a motor grader finish up early and decide to blow off some steam.
Not metaphorically — like actual hydraulic pressure. They’re machines. But bear with me.
Anyway, they rumble off the job site, covered in dirt and pride, and head for the one place in town that doesn’t mind a little grease on the floors: The Rusty Bucket, a local watering hole for hard-working iron.
The bartender, an old welding rig with more patches than original metal, sees them coming and sighs. “Not these three again…” he mutters, polishing a pint glass with a shop rag that probably hasn't been washed since '96.
They roll up to the bar and grab their usual spots:
The excavator swings its boom around and sets it gently on the bar top like it owns the place.
The bulldozer crashes into a stool and knocks it across the room, muttering something about OSHA being soft these days.
The grader, always smooth, rolls in with its blade adjusted just slightly off-center — enough to make a statement but not enough to ruin the concrete.
The bartender looks at them and says, “Alright, what’ll it be tonight? The usual hydraulic fluid chasers with diesel backs?”
The excavator chuckles, “Make mine extra viscous.”
The dozer growls, “Straight 40 weight. No ice.”
The grader, of course, just nods. “Neat. Like my passes.”
Now, the three of them start complaining about the week.
The excavator grumbles about utility maps being “more like utility guesses.”
The dozer’s fuming because a mini-excavator took his parking spot. And the grader?
The grader sighs. “Nobody appreciates fine finish work anymore. It’s all ‘hurry up, let’s pave it.’ I haven’t heard the words 'cross slope' in three days.”"
Just then, the packer rolls in — late as usual, vibrating slightly, like it forgot how to stop. It thumps into a stool, knocks over a toolbox, and says, “Did someone say worst week?”
The dozer groans. “Here we go…”
The excavator raises a boom. “We’re venting, not vibrating.”
The grader smirks. “Please, what could you have to complain about?”
The packer sighs, dramatic and tired. “I spent all week compacting a parking lot in front of a gym.”
Everyone looks confused.
The packer shrugs and says:
“Five days straight, and still — nobody noticed my gains.”
