I love trucks. Whenever I see one I think, oh, if only I had one of those, I could really drag some shit back here for the shop. I am partial to vintage trucks. What a surprise, eh? There’s one in a driveway that I pass often, and one of these days I may drive right off the road because I have to have me a good look-see when I’m passing by, and it’s a curvy road that you shouldn’t be look-seeing at anything but what’s in front of you.
Oh, sigh me a river.
Since I can’t have one of those until we win the Lotto, I buy toy trucks. Like this one that hold our remotes. It’s fake.
I also have one in my garden……a front loader that’s about fifty years old. I would show you a picture but there’s a butt load of leaves on top of it. When my garden is planted it looks like it’s scooping a load of dirt. That one cracks me up.
I was at an antique mall and came across this beauty with a cracked windshield for $8.00. That’s a picture of the kids in the background when they were wee. We were on the way to the pool. We. went. there. every. single. day. I. kid. you. not.
The new old truck sat on the bench by the front door where all randoms stay until there’s a plan, Stan. Today I cleaned the bathroom. Really cleaned it instead of the usual half-ass job.
The truck is back in operation. It is happy now. It is hauling a mega roll.
