Truck vs Wife

I will say honestly that I have a good existence. As good as an old running thing anyway. But I’ll be even more honest when I tell you that she makes me downright nervous. She saunters up, always trying to look over-confident, but instead always succeeding in looking nervous. She was never good at this and she will admit it…right in front of me (which makes me rust profusely and she never notices)!

He, however, (I believe she calls him Ben) puts me at ease. I don’t mind spending time with him. At least, I won’t get a backache, or get stuck, dented, or accidentally mistreated. All of these things have happened with her. I can’t bear to even acknowledge her name. She recently scraped me against a tree stump, hence the dent.  She insists she couldn’t see it. How could she miss it? She has no respect for my old and rusting temperament. I have tried to be patient, but I cannot bear it anymore.


I’m a truck, by the way. And also I’ve heard her say that she’s going to put insulting things about me on this blog. She thinks I’m not listening when she talks to her husband…but I am. They have discussed names for me, but haven’t officially picked one out. I’ve helped them move TWICE! I’ve escorted them on their honeymoon (what a strange time of my existence). I’ve been through drive-thus, battery died multiple times (thanks to her), been pulled over on the jolliest of holidays, and have gone wherever they will me….including the Mohave desert!

I’ve even done my best to be complacent when she gets in the driver’s seat. Who gave her  a license anyway?! Just another reason for me to hate the DMV.

Thanks to the rain, there’s mud. Thanks to the mud, I can get even. Here she saunters around 6:05 pm, determined to get to dinner at a decent time. She even parked me lower on the hill, so she wouldn’t get stuck (as if that would actually help her poor driving skills). She slams my door —rattle, rattle— turns the key, throws on the defrost (which I’ve recently decided needs a long vacation) and started to back up in that triumphant attitude that expects no problems. HA.

I can’t properly describe that obnoxious grinding sound when I sink my tires into the mud. I’m a truck, after all. But the noise went something like—


She gets out, checks the damage, gets back in and tries to fix the predicament—–


The mud is laughing. If I can tell you this story, then the mud can laugh, indeed! I won’t budge. No sirreee. Not for anyone, but Ben. I can feel her frustration, but I did not ask to be given such a reckless, accident prone driver. Land sake, I’ve driven over a snake because of her! I don’t even feel a little bad to have gotten myself stuck in the only sloshy mud pile in the area. Just her luck....(and my skill).

I thought my entertainment was through until I see her get out of the truck, slam the door–rattle, rattle— and then inspect the left tire. She has single-handedly sunk me pretty deep in the mud. I imagine it’s pretty bad, judging by her face. She picks up her right foot and then—

Pat, Pat, Pat

Pat, Pat, Pat

She is actually patting down the mud around my left tire to make me look less stuck than I already am. She’s already dented me. Her husband can’t possibly be fooled by patted down mud! I hear the tree stump (the one that gave me this dent) groaning in delight because without proper branches it can’t wave or rustle in laughter

Pat, Pat, Pat

Pat, Pat, Pat

The mud plays its part. The tree stump groans. And I ask the frost to please build up on the windshield before she gets back in the driver’s seat!

Pat, Pat, Pat,

Pat, Pat, Pat

As if that will hide that she got me stuck in mud and scraped against a tree stump in the space of 4 days. Her husband finally came. I don’t know how she would live without him, and I wonder how he lives with her?

She looks about to cry or laugh, but she’s leaning towards tears. I mmMMERRrrred only a few times before happily moving for Ben. I may let my defrost work smoothly again, but then again I may not.

I heard rumor that she wants to learn how to drive me better on real roads. I even heard Ben agree. How could he agree? So when she gets up to go to work tomorrow, I’m going to frost my windows so badly that she needs Ben to drive.

In fact, I’m going to do everything in my vehicular power to make her scared of driving on the real roads.

And I have to say….so far, I’m winning.

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previously in the marriage chronicles:




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