Secret Love Affair

Riding in the big green van, 2 kids, 1 sight impaired husband, mom half asleep at the wheel, stereo screaming, "B I N G O..and BINGO was his name...o!" Conversation consisting of the following:

"Mom, guess what?"

"Mom, did you know that trains go fast?"

"Mom, why does the equator split the earth in half?"

"Mom, I have to pee!" 

"Mom, I have to go pee, again."

"Mom, Riley is annoying me."

"Mom, S..... is annoying me!"

Just a few reasons, why my love affair is back, and in full swing. 

Riding in the old red truck, no kids, no husband, no conversation, mom still half asleep at the wheel, stereo screaming, "It's my life...now or never, I ain't gonna live forever!," and "Have a nice day!" Lovin my Bon Jovi! 

My life has been  like a screwdriver the last 6 months, constantly turning...and going nowhere. Somehow, I have gotten lost in the turning and chaos, but I have found myself in my old red truck. 

Nineteen-years-old, and I bought my first new truck, put every mile on it, and even bought it without knowing how to drive a stick-shift...learned that day, in fact. I was living away from home, no mom or dad to lean on. I was finding myself, learning who I was, no ties to anyone. It was awesome. My truck takes me back to my freedom days, my younger days, my carefree days! I found me again, in my beat up, beautiful red truck. 

Lately, I have been an office assistant, daycare provider, foster mom, Halloween Sales Associate, Wife, Guide Dog, Negotiator, Taxi Driver, Counselor, Maid, Teacher, Leader, Friend...where did I go? 

There is something magical in an old truck, and I love it, I can be at a red light with a huge 2011 Dodge Ram next to me, and I don't envy him a bit-not even the shiny coat of paint, cause I have memories in my old truck, it is paid for, it never breaks down, and there is nothing like driving an old truck down the road, shifting into fourth gear. Nothing like it...unless you have the radio blasting, because that is a must! 

I have many memories of squeezing into my dad's old yellow Toyota, the feel of the scratchy sunburned seats, the dusty smell of a long overdue dashboard cleaning, yelling at my brother or sister to stop sitting on me, and going through the ruts of mud in the canyon, or simply feeling the breeze on my face sitting in the bed of the truck. Or, memories of my Grandpa's old Chevy with the 8-track tape deck, and the old cowboy hate hanging in the back window with the gun rack, and the smell of pink mints that Grandpa used have in his pocket or mouth at all times. 

How could I not love sitting in my old red truck and remember who I am and where I came from....simpler times, life is crazy, and I wish I could slow down, but I step right into my love affair on my way to work everyday.