Truck Day
Today's a small holiday here at Chez Gigerlicious. I officially paid down the truck. It's ours! I really don't care if gas reaches ten dollars a gallon, the thrill of driving the truck is simply worth a premium. My first car was a rental fleet Escort my parents snapped up on the cheap - a reasonable car for a poor grad student. But this truck, this is a vehicle that redefined independence on the road. If everything works right, I'll hand this monster off to Jack when he's ready for it. Of course, he seems to think that he's ready now.
I know the popular, dare I say, proper philosophy is to love a rinky-dink foreign hisser that gets 45 miles to the gallon, runs on good feelings and insurance executives and fits in your reusable bag that's slung over the rear wheel of your bike, but I've never been one to be swayed by the flow, perchance, it stokes my defiance even more.
To paraphrase Heston, you'll pry this steering wheel from my cold dead hand. And unlike most firearms, I only have to reload every 400 miles.