I could see the pearls of sweat forming. A look of horror crossing her brow as she watched me maneuver into the space next to her through her side mirror. The sigh of relief that, even though I was jutted out three feet, I was in and her car was none the worst for it. They don’t make parking spaces for trucks in the city! Getting out of the space was its own odyssey.
Mind you, I grew up in Denver. My first car, a ’78 Buick was quite possibly the same size as my Chevy truck. That was a long time ago. The lanes have shrunk, I think. A truck scarcely fits in the lanes in Denver. My son told me that was the city’s way of sending me a message. Trucks kill the planet!
“Baby,” I said, “I rarely leave my county. I am not using near the gas that all these cars commuting everywhere are!”
I missed my exit. Doug was driving in front of me and quickly shot his little car over into the proper lanes to get on the highway. (Our car broke down up north before a farmer’s market and so we were picking it up from the shop.) “Why didn’t you get in front of me?” he asks considerately. “Too many zippy cars everywhere!” I exclaim. Good lord, little cars go fast and they don’t give a s*&t if you are a truck or not! (Or that if I chose to get over, they would be one little crushed car!) So, I took the long way home.
Way back when, I was the little girl with the pig tails and frilly dresses playing with trucks. As an adult, I hoop and holler and whistle at trucks. “Heeey good lookin’…..Wassup?….No, not you, I’m talking to your truck…”
I love my truck. So much, that I cannot imagine owning anything but a truck. I can haul everything, fit six people, get through rain storms, snow storms, and dirt roads to get to my children. I look bad ass. Every girl should have a truck. Mine is actually on the small size. Nancy’s bed is at least four feet longer, and we won’t even talk about Alli’s truck. She could haul a small airplane. Country girls are awesome. They can handle anything…even small city lines and itty bitty parking spaces but I think I will just try to stay around here more.
And as I drove down Wadsworth with zippy cars flying past me in a blinding rainstorm, I just started singing, “Take me home…country roads…to the place….I beloooong!”