I Can Smell This Truck

 

Cigarettes. Wet dawg. Dead farts. A defeated Christmas tree air freshener. Perhaps trace amounts of aftershave. Varsol and gasoline. Minus the rifle - It coulda been Pop’s old farm truck. The thing was always  spotless and ran like a top. The various stenches weren’t over powering; but they were there like old memories that don’t go away.  You’d notice them if they were gone. 

The other day I saw an ad for a new truck. It drives itself. Tilt-power everything-cruise-a/c-etc-ad nauseum. Full leather interior with a TV screen in the console with full avionics. Whadda they call it? An infotainment console? So ya can drive it with your cell phone? I dunno what’s going on with the powered tailgates now… the one I saw looked like a transformer autobot glitching as he tried to turn from a truck into something else.

They say us guys used to have a life expectancy of about 30. You had time to grow up, get married and then ya died. There occasions when I wonder if I have lived far, far beyond my time.