I drive a 1997 Honda Accord. I run a fence business.
There are some inherent problems with this.
- Just about everything at my shop is longer than my car
- You can haul approximately 1 bag of brackets and a bucket of stain in my car.
- My tires would be annihilated by most of the stuff you’d find in our parking lot at any given moment
- It has no towing capacity. None.
- Going to suppliers and parking amidst the contractors is just embarrasing. You can’t even see my car between all those work trucks. It’s emasculating.
- I feel a deep affinity for work trucks. My grandad drove one. My daddy drives one. My first car was a truck. I love them. I give them names. I think they’re adorable in sort of a “my first bulldozer” sort of way.
So the time has come y’all. I need a real work truck. And yesterday, while doing the weekly grocery shopping, I locked eyes on my new baby. I had no earthly idea what year/engine/stuff it was – I don’t pay attention to such things (although I am learning because Benjamin knows all of those such things, and he’s a very good teacher). Nope, my decision was instantaneous, certain, and perfect. My friends, I am going to buy an early to mid 1990’s Ford F250 Powerstroke Diesel V8 4×4 Extended Cab. I know!! It’s a mouthful, but it’s awesome. And I have chanced upon the perfect one!! It has red interior
just like my grandad’s truck did. It’s also got a maroon stripe, which I would normally be most unthrilled about because me and maroon are not friends unless I am spying it through the glass of a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. However, I love the mondo 70’s look of it. I feel like we’re definitely compadres.
Probably I won’t get this one. Buying a truck is a ways off. But it’s fun to dream about. And it’s thrilling to have made a decision. And I love that I’m gonna love my truck. It will certainly have personality – and duh, fuzzy dice over the mirror.
I think I shall name her Bess. That is, if she has a maroon stripe. It seems apropos.