Wednesday, April 4, 2012

love hate relationships

I hate my husbands white pick up truck.

A week ago, my soccer mom mini-van had some tire issues so it was out of service.  I needed to pick up my daughter from only choice...the pick up truck.

I mentioned this to my friend who had never seen the pick up truck and said "oh, its one of those manly trucks huh, takes a ladder to get in?"
me: "no, not so much".
friend: "oh, is it a disaster inside, men, they don't throw things away!"
me: "no" pause "nope, its one of those trucks that if you saw it on garbage day in your neighborhood you'd think I was gathering metal for recycling".

Yep folks, that about sums up our twenty-one year old, white pick up truck. Hubby has done some things to try to make it paint it, put new vinyl on the roof, throw a blanket in it to cover up the torn apart seats.  And as you would suspect...didn't work. Still a white, rusted up pick up truck that jumps when it starts.  Hubby does have a stick shift (manual) vehicle that he drives to work.  I could use it, but I don't do stick shift.  He tried to teach me, but that was a lifetime ago, in Northern California with lots of hills, in his Z28 Camaro.  Driving lessons didn't go over well.  So, for the past 12 years I have refused to let him teach me...I don't want a divorce.

So when my vehicle is out of commission...its the truck.  I do my very best to avoid driving the truck, the windows are hand cranked, the radio doesn't always turn off when the car does.  Its either flaming, dry, hot air out of the vent or...well, not really sure what else comes out.  I don't use the "vent" in the summer, just crank down that window and go.

This vehicle changes me.  It turns this mom into a honey badger, don't care.  Moo girl needs to go to gymnastics? Just throw her car seat in the front and its a mini-adventure.  What?  Need to pick up your boy from baseball practice?  Everyone squish in...and go.

I drive this thing around like I own the road.  Road rage goes away in this truck.  You drive like an ass...truck don't care.  Pissed because I'm doing the speed limit?  Go the hell around me...truck don't care.  People are more nervous about me hitting them... judgmental fools don't think I have insurance.  Oh! The love I have for this truck...the don't care attitude is exhilarating.

The best thing about this truck: it gets me from point A to point B.  No gimmicks, no automatic windows, no automatic just drives, and makes me work for it.  The truck knows its job and it does it.  Need a hand moving?  We got the truck.  What?!  Truck just got rear-ended by someone talking on a cell phone, while it has furniture in its truck bed?  Pick up truck don't care...still drives, rear ender...needs a tow truck.

Its not a pretty truck, its not a smooth ride by any way of the imagination.  But you know what...don't care.  Today, the truck helped me move an Ethan Allen dresser from my local thrift shop to my home. How badass honey badger is that?!

No comments: