My Truck Takes Me For A Walk, Part 2

I was in the driveway to my house. My “old truck” was warmed up and idling about as smoothly as it ever will. The rain had just ceased. I was tired but happy to have “shaken the kinks out” on an old machine but I have many irons in the fire. It was time to get in the house and wash some dishes.

“Nope.” The truck was firm.

“I beg your pardon? I’m driving, you’re the truck!” I stammered.

“Nope. Fuck the dishes. You’ve had a long year, lets go play in the mud.” The truck insisted.

Just then Mrs. Curmudgeon texted. “I’m heading home, are you back from testing the truck yet?”

Uh oh, when trucks and wives argue all hell breaks loose! Lucky for me Mrs. Curmudgeon is an absolute saint. She likes it when I’m happily toying with my mechanical “fleet”. Even so I should try diplomacy. I texted back “Are you planning a fancy dinner or something?”

“Not at all. I’m pretty tired. I will probably go to bed early. I might be catching a cold.”

The truck giggled. I swear the damn thing shifted it’s idling just a tiny bit as if to mock me.

I responded. “I’m not done with the truck testing.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon is great. “Have fun, see you at sunset.”

The truck, having totally controlled the situation, clicked into reverse as smooth as silk. Soon I was barreling down country dirt lanes, enjoying the smells of falling leaves and its carbureted engine.

I passed the turn to a small public hunting area. I haven’t been there for years. The entrance is a muddy mess. The truck made it’s case. “Get in there dude!”

“It’s a muddy track, are you sure?”

“Do bears shit in the woods? Get in there!”

I shifted into 4×4 and spun a half mile into a dead end hunk of nowhere. I parked the beast, which seemed rather pleased with itself, and hiked off with shotgun in hand. Maybe I’d find a rabbit or a grouse.

It was late afternoon, the weather wasn’t great. The sun was about to set and I was walking straight into the forest under less than ideal conditions. That’s OK. This is what I prepare for. My hunting jacket bristled with matches and flashlights and a SpotX and snacks and water. I always have enough gear to keep me alive if things go from “amusingly stupid” to “serious”.

There was no drama though. I wandered happily. It was a good time even if I didn’t find any game.

It’s been a hard year. I ran low on energy in only an hour of fruitless hiking. Gosh, that’s not a lot of endurance! Even so, I’d done the right thing at the right time for the right reason. The universe likes it when you get with the program.

Back at the trailhead, the truck started like a boss. In it’s heyday it was a world class badass 4×4 and it still “has the bones”; we churned out of the mess like it was no big deal. I rumbled home about an hour after sunset.

There’s more. Stay tuned for Part 3.

About AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Adaptive Curmudgeon is handsome, brave, and wise.
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One Response to My Truck Takes Me For A Walk, Part 2

  1. FeralFerret says:

    Excellent tale so far.

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