Anyone who is into home improvement either has a truck, or often dreams about it. Trucks can be useful for hauling lumber, mulch, and many other things. I had a big huge Suburban for a short time, but as with many other used vehicles I have purchased over the years, after owning it for a few months, I found myself sitting on the side of the road in the dead of winter, with steam pouring from under the hood as I waited for the tow truck to move the monstrosity back to my house, where I would stick a For Sale sign on it and wait to pass it along to the next sucker.
But before it broke I had the pleasure of filling it with tons of shingles I tore off my roof and then hauling them to the landfill – where, as is my way, I ended up seeing things I wanted to take home with me … things that might be able to be used for something some day. A great lattice fence was lying there and I went over to grab it from a stack of things set to one side, when the guy who works there drove over on his backhoe and yelled, “Hey, you can’t have that. It’s mine.”
Ahhh, I never thought I would, but I was actually experiencing landfill worker envy, thinking of all the free stuff he’s probably gathered over the years, the artistic things he can do with all that junk!
But back to the truck. I also had the opportunity of using it to haul massive amounts of mulch for my garden. And when I left it in the back of the Suburban for several days until steam filled the windows, I was inspired to do some Googling and find out about the possibilities of mulch spontaneously combusting. (It can happen!)
But, once again, back to the truck. I wrote the following column during those first exciting weeks before the truck began having problems with the water heater … which I should have fixed, before it over heated and locked up the engine.
Truck Drivin’ Woman Feels the Power
I’ve experienced a new feeling of power lately: the power of driving a truck. I found a really good deal on an old ’79 Suburban recently. I got it for $500 and it’s a huge Jed-Clampett-looking thing, with a hard top and windows in the back, and the color that isn’t rust is dark blue.
In the last few weeks I’ve finally had the chance to do some real hauling. While I still have my little Dodge Omni for day-to-day driving, maneuvering the Suburban out to get loads of mulch, building materials, bags of cement and other sundries has given me a whole new attitude.
You see, when you drive a compact vehicle like my Omni, you always have the feeling that if someone bigger runs into you you’ve just about had it. I mean, my last accident was a chain reaction at a stoplight. The van behind me and the pickup truck in front of me didn’t get a scratch, while the entire front of my car got totaled.
But this is not a concern when I’m driving this monstrous Suburban: a vehicle that is larger than your average pickup truck, a vehicle I have to climb to get into, a vehicle that makes me taller than almost all of the other drivers on the road.
When I first got behind the wheel of my Suburban, I was amazed at the view from up there. Everything was a lot smaller down on the ground and I could see down into people’s cars and see everything, and I mean everything, they were doing. It was pretty cool! Don’t be trying to straighten your underwear at stoplights! I can see it all!
I was a little nervous at first though. I was afraid for the others. I wasn’t sure if I could judge distance properly, and I didn’t want to sideswipe anyone.
So, I must admit, my doubts were reaffirmed as someone in Lowe’s parking lot began pointing at me in my truck and making faces like I was the last remaining human being and I was just spotted by one of the body snatchers. Then there was that inaudible comment someone made as I took a turn a little too wide. I couldn’t make out the words, but the voice said it all.
But now that I’m a little more used to driving my big ol’ honkin’ truck, I realize I am not the one who should be in fear. It’s the other guy that better start shakin’. I’ll wait a respectable amount of time for traffic to clear the road before I pull on. But, if they don’t start slowing down to let me in eventually, I’ll start throwing my weight around.
“Hah! It’s gonna hurt you a lot more than it’ll hurt me,” I say as I pull out. “Why I could just smash you to smithereens.”
I feel like I’ve gained a new respect from fellow truckers as well. Perhaps the ball cap pulled down over my eyes had something to do with it in addition to the truck, but the other day two men in a pickup truck drove by at slightly below my eye level.
The one in the passenger seat nodded and said a respectable, “How’s it going,” as he passed by. It was quite a change from the usual, “Hey baby.” You don’t make flirtatious comments to someone who could squash you like a bug.
But speaking of squashing others, I can’t quite figure out why I should have to pay liability insurance on the truck in addition to what I already pay on my car. I mean, I can only drive one at a time, therefore I can only smash one person’s car to smithereens at a time. I think liability insurance should be something that is carried on the driver, no matter what car they are driving. After all, it isn’t really the car that causes the accident.
Hopefully I’ll make up the money in savings I get through buying things in quantity though. For instance I was able to buy a “dipperful” (a backhoe shovelful) of mulch for $12, because I had the truck to put it in, whereas I would have probably had to spend three times as much if I had bought it by the bag.
But back to the truck. The feeling of power is really something. As I drive down the road I feel like cars are bowing and moving to let me by as I mumble threats under my breath.
I say to myself, “There’s a Volkswagen Beetle! Out of my way bug! Or I’ll squash you like … well … what you are! And then I see a Volvo or a Mercedes and I say, “You may be more expensive, but I could turn you into scrap heaps, Get outa my way!
Then I see a semi-tractor trailer with a big gasoline tank on the back and I say, “Ooops, my mistake! After you sir!”
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