Tonight, while I was leaving after my eleventh hour of work, a truck pulled in. I hate that. I just know it’s a customer with some “oh hey, glad I caught you” bullshit that could easily wait until business hours tomorrow. It’s 8:30pm and raining… Seriously, get bent. Alas, it wasn’t that at all. It was two strangers, in fact, and they just pulled in because they dug the look of Fast Orange. Wanna know what two strangers were doing in town on a rainy night? They were across the street looking at new Dodge trucks, yet took the time to drive over and talk to me about my old orange bowtie beater. I like that.
That brings me to my point: I don’t do cars anymore. I’m in the middle of a gasser build that I’m going to go WAY over budget on, and that I know I’ll never drive. I work all the time, and when I eventually move and change jobs, I’ll still be working all the time. There’s no room for a car in the life of an entry-level working man. Old trucks are bad ass, because they’re still old, they’re still cool, and you can still use them as a truck. Not only that, everyone can relate to them. Everyone has a story of dad’s old truck, grandpa’s old truck, or the piece of shit that work let them use that starred in every funny story about being stranded with only a pack of smokes and a deck of cards. Don’t believe me? Ask the distracted guy from tonight. He had a generic red Dodge that I didn’t ask one question about, and I noticed he never went back to the dealership when he finished talking to me.