Every fence-pulling adventure starts with the Rock Back and Forth dance. You lean into the post, push away, lean back, and repeat. You look like a human metronome having a seizure. If your neighbor happens to be watching, this is the exact moment they wave and take a sip of their iced tea, enjoying the free theater.
Then comes the Car Jack Gambit. You strap a chain around the post, hook it to a hydraulic jack, and start cranking. The post groans, the chain tightens, and for one glorious second, you think you’ve won. Instead, the jack sinks two inches into the soft dirt, and the post doesn’t budge. You’ve just invented a very expensive way to park a jack underground.
Some folks get desperate and try the Truck Method. You loop a tow strap around the post, tie the other end to your bumper, and gently tap the gas. Gently is the keyword here, but your cousin Steve doesn’t believe in gentle. He hits the gas, the post flies out, and the tow strap whips back like a rebellious snake, taking out your mailbox on the way. Suddenly, your problem isn’t a fence post; it’s a missing mailbox and a cousin who now owes you a beer.
Post-Popper - Hi-Lift Jack Co.
The Real Secret: Water and Leverage
After you’ve exhausted the zoo of bad ideas, you finally do what you should have done first: water the dang thing. You take a garden hose, shove it down the hole around the post, and turn it on. The water acts like a lubricant, turning the compacted, rock-hard dirt into a soupy, angry mud. It’s like giving the earth a laxative, and trust me, after a forty-year nap, that concrete collar is grateful for a drink.
While the water sits, you grab a long, heavy steel bar—a digging bar or a piece of rebar. This is your persuasion tool. You jam it into the side of the hole, and you pry. Not with your back, but with the weight of your entire body, like you’re trying to shift a dinosaur off of its couch. You’ll hear a sound like a giant tooth being pulled: a wet, grinding thwump. That’s the concrete collar letting go.
Once you break that seal, the post becomes a different beast. It’s not fighting you anymore; it’s just heavy. You can wiggle it, lift it, and finally, finally, you hoist it out of the ground. You’ll stand there, panting, holding this muddy, rusty tube like a trophy. It weighs fifty pounds, but it feels like you just lifted a small car.
Chain Link Fence Post Removal at Carla Apgar blog
