The MinuteCynic is a new man. For the past 10 days, I've had the pure pleasure of having the ultimate in manly motoring taking up residence in my garage. Yes, it's the pickup truck, the working man's best friend and the cowboy chariot. Sure, sports cars are cute and all, but a guy drives a Corvette because he's trying to look like a man. Dudes drive trucks because they ARE men. Big difference.
What's the big deal you ask? I would have asked the same question 2 weeks ago when I borrowed my father-in-law's motorized beast of burden. I've had some projects around the yard that needed attention, and my recent frugal attitude has made me quite the do-it-yourselfer. 2 weeks ago I was a mere timid overgrown boy, thinking: perhaps I can maybe shuffle some dirt around the yard, if it's not too much of a bother. But after I summoned all my courage and asked my wife to ask her dad if I could use his truck, everything changed.
I will never forget the moment he smiled and tossed me the keys frowned and asked me if I knew how to drive a stick, to which I replied that I did, and then he smiled and tossed me the keys proceeded to give me a lengthy lecture on the delicate intricacies of a manual transmission. Comforted by my attentive gaze and affirmative bobbleheading to all his questions, he then smiled and tossed me the keys commanded that I check the tire pressure regularly and broke down the required procedure in such a way that my frail, kindergarten-like mind could somewhat grasp the concept. With a deep sigh, he finally smiled and tossed me the keys reluctantly allowed me to wrestle his truck keys from his firm and meaty grip.
**In keeping with the strict regulations contained in FIBA (the much-ignored Fairness In Blogging Act) I'm compelled to reveal that I have been involved in several very strange accidents in my life. None of these were my fault of course, but unfortunately, a couple of them did take place in my father-in-law's vehicles. Weird huh?
Listen, the minute I sat behind the wheel of this dude machine, I was instantly ushered into a higher consciousness of manhood. Suddenly, there wasn't much I couldn't do anymore. What to do with all the bushes Wonder Woman (my super-awesome wife) dug up and stashed behind the house? Toss 'em in the truck and haul 'em over to the dump. How are we ever gonna grow mammoth leafy greens in the garden this summer? Why, I think a load of compost in the truck oughta do 'er. The flower beds need a yard o' black dirt? Lemme git over there to the landscape supply and have the boys in the yard dump a scoop 'er two right in the back there, and watch out for mah tool box son. You best believe the dude driving the bobcat looked me square in the eye when he told me to come on back and he'll hit me with another scoop. Nobody looks you in the eye when you have to ask if delivery is available. Nobody.
There's a whole new level of respect people have when you pull up in a truck. Obviously you're a man who's about the business of hard work. I mean, look at all the stuff in the back. You're really doin' stuff. Plus, there's nothing like the nod you get from a fellow pickup truck dude - or even better, the 1 finger wave. Go ahead, try a 1 finger wave in your Camry, and see what happens. Nothing, that's what.
Being a pickup man means having to endure the envious looks from the non truck guys too. I see you there Mr. I-gotta-shovel-my-dirt-into-5-gallon-pails-'cuz-my-wife-will-yell-if-one-speck-gets-on-the-carpet-of-her-2004-Chevy-Malibu. I also see you, the how-the-heck-am-I-gonna-get-this-lawnmower-in-the-trunk-of-my-Prius guy. I felt your shame when you had to ask the guys at Home Depot to please cut your shelves into 3 foot sections so you could get 'em home. Truck dudes take their lumber whole and cut it at home with power tools. In fact, whyn't ya gimme that 8.. naw, 10 footers'll do just right. I'll just toss 'em right here in the truck. No sweat. A pickup man doesn't gloat in others' envy though. That ain't manly. A truck dude just takes his cargo and hits the road. After all, he's got stuff to do.
This all sounds a little bit over the top, I know. I can't explain it, but its all true. You just feel different in a truck as your manstincts (man-instincts) begin to activate. For example, I needed to head up north to get myself a load of firewood, and I just knew the right soundtrack for the trip included some Allman Brothers. I started wondering if all the truck stuff was going to my head until my baby boy starts bobbing his head and singing the track. Until you've heard your 19-month old KILL it on Midnight Rider well, you just ain't had him in a truck. I started to doubt my manstincts theory later that night when I had my oldest son in the truck to pick up some lumber and he was talking nonstop about Harry Potter and wizardry or some not-that-manly stuff. But later, when I took him to get some ice cream, he walks out of the store without skipping a beat, opens the tailgate and hops up into the truck bed. Then, chewing on his spoon with a faraway look in his eyes he says: "Yeah dad, this night was pretty ok." That right there is something a truck guy says...
After a week like that, it was no surprise when I informed Wonder Woman that we're gonna be getting a truck sometime in the near future, and there were no objections. No doubt, WW digs my swagger 7 days a week, but she was for sure enjoying how I made that truck ride low with landscape supplies. Ladies don't mind a little sweat when its mixed with the scent of sawdust, deck stain, and a little charcoal Trust me on this.
I hope we get that truck soon, 'cuz I got stuff to do, like finish up my kids' sandbox. In the meantime, here's hoping my man at the landscape yard still looks me in the eye when I roll up in my 4-door, midsize family sedan with an above-average safety rating, and ask if delivery is available.
