It's been a while

After numerous e-mails, post cards, smoke signals, phone calls and water balloons, demanding my return. I'm back. Modern technology has forced me to take a new address which is smo1942@blogspot.com.

DRIVING A PICK (ME) UP TRUCK

I recently had the need to drive a pick up truck for a day. Having been raised in the "city", having no idea why anyone would ever need such a vehicle let alone one with large tires which made it necessary to have a step ladder to get in.

Prior to this adventure, I thought that it would make sense to add accrudaments to the vehicle as well as my wardrobe in order to get the true experience. Hard as it is to believe, I could not rent a gun rack for the back window, fuzzy tails for the rear fenders, a "rebel" license plate or a washable tattoo that said MOM with a big red heart.

So here I go, wearing a dress shirt, tie, winged tip shoes and plaid pants, sitting 10 feet off the ground, starting the journey.

The first thing that I noticed were the interesting things "stored" in the drivers area (I guess that's called the cab). First an exciting assortment of almost empty soda cups from an assortment of fast food establishments. It was obvious that many were well aged, after all "Gino's" .15 hamburgers has been gone for at least 30 years and I can barely remember the Hot Shoppe. The soda containers were accompanied by a number of empty beer cans, you would thinf that they wouls have been redeemed for the deposit.

Apparently, if you spend a lot of time driving one of these, you need extra clothes. On the floor was a lively assortment of colorful sets of underwear. I still can't understand why there were both men's and woman's sets? Either I'm just naive or they got the truck from Bill Clinton.

Behind the seats were an assortment of well used, soiled rags. Some had catsup and mustard stains, others oil and grease stains and others were, to say the least "non descript".

I will say that you meet the most interesting people when you drive one of these, many of them wave at you using just one finger, others just yell out of their car (or pick me up) windows. The nicest person that I met worked at the gas station. You see, we could not find the gas tank and the attendant could not communicate in English. He just stood there and smiled, maybe it was the plaid pants.

Well, now I can remove drive a pick (me) up truck off of my "bucket list".

WELCOME BACK!