I love my truck. Not more than my car of course, but it sure is a joyride. Today I finally got the stains off of it. I had been delaying my work since I got it because of all the drama and other shit flying around in my life, along with the numerous stone chips on the hood. It took me forever to individually spot-sand each rust nick and fill. I might as well have had the whole thing repainted for my efforts, but didn’t have the money to spare. That money was needed for things like tires and brake parts. Getting the thing through Maryland inspection was irritating. With all the local shitboxes on the road I don’t really understand the point of state inspections.
At night after work I cut through town and hit the back roads to visit Nate, who has been staying with his grandmother. I crank up 99.9 and turn the ride into a good time. While deer are still a hazard, the truck is a hell of a lot higher than them. While mostly stock, it has a nice lift to it, just right for me. I would have to climb in and out of my dad’s old truck, while with this one I can just hop to and from without hurting myself. The seats are soft and worn and it instantly heats itself up. It reminds me of the trucks my mom and dad had when I was little. I was raised around trucks and owning one seems natural.