Trucks

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this here before, but I’m a divorcee. I was married once before to gal I met in grad school at texas a&m. I think I dated her for a year and proposed. Back then I was incredibly naive, and my thinking was: “I’m almost out of school and I’m not going to meet any more women” (since I was heading for an engineering job.) Pretty piss poor reason to get married.

The problem was, we argued all the time. There were no kids, and dissolving the marriage was more or less just paperwork. I only mention this because of the aftermath. Before and during the marriage I was kind of a home bound computer geek, book worm. After the divorce, all sorts of things took place. I got new single friends all younger than me (I was 28.) I started taking dance lessons with the sole purpose to meet women. I started wearing brooks brothers cotton pinpoint shirts and khaki pleated cotton pants (don’t ask what I used to wear!) I bought a motorcycle and a leather jacket. I joined a country club. I started working out. I don’t think I even turned on my home PC!

The other thing I did was buy my first truck. A brand new, loaded 1988 Chevy silverado. And, I might add, I did this over the objections of my parents and friends. “Why do you need a truck?” “What do you need to haul? Har har har!” Well, it turns out that I do need to haul stuff. You don’t realize the incredible utility of having a truck, unless you’ve had one for yourself.

What’s my point? I don’t know. Maybe don’t make fun of your son if wants to trade in his honda accord for a F150.

Heather and I were driving to the post office an hour ago and came to a stop behind a truck. The license plate had a bracket around it that said “A Man and his truck – A beautiful thing.” She says “Is that true?” I said: “You know it is.”