I didn't realize that being able to lift a 10 speed into the back of a pick-up truck was a skill until recently. I pick people up, sometimes drunk people, I'll admit, who may or may not have called me to come get them because I have a truck to carry home their bike. So, logically, I assumed that these people couldn't load a bike into the back of a pick-up because they were intoxicated. Even some sober people I know can't load bikes into the backs of trucks. Some of them are much taller than I am, and they still were banging bike bits up against truck bits. I try not to be too annoyed by the fact that they are potentially hurting my lone asset (which isn't even really mine, but my mom's) and just realize this, much like herding chickens and creating sentence fragments, is just one of my mad skills. However, when someone says "It's just a pick-up," that's when it really gets me.
I'm very Jack Sparrow about my mom's truck. It isn't what a truck needs that makes it magic(like a new shiny bumper). It's what a truck is. My truck is freedom! & I'll be damned if people too intoxicated or too clumsy are going to nick or scratch my haul-it-everywhere, through hell or high-water, every-dent-a-story, every scratch a battle wound, vehicle of power!
