I ran to Home Depot today. Very quick trip. I grabbed some wood, threw it in my car. Shut the back door and began to get into the drivers seat.
"You see?!? That right there is why you need a truck."
I look over to see an old man. It's okay to say he was old, right? I mean, he clearly was old enough to be a grandpa. Why is 'old' perceived as such a criticism? Sometimes, it's just plain true.
I didn't notice that I was struggling at all to fit the very long wood in my car. Actually, I just stuck it through the space between the two front seats and it fit just fine. No issue. So what encouraged him to yell out across the parking lot at me? Is he a truck lover? Has he had damaging relationships with small cars in the past? Does he have stock in Ford or Dodge? I don't know.
That was one of only two instances in the last year that I have needed to fit something large in my car. And in zero of those instances did I think, "Damn. I wish I had a truck." Whatever it was that I needed to cram in there fit like a glove. All I could think of as I closed the door was, "No. Old Man. I do NOT need a truck. Clearly, the wood fit in here just fine. Don't you know how much it would drive me crazy to drive a truck? To jump up in that thing and to haul around town like some big time Texan? To spend about twice what I do in gas? Old Man, I got 38 miles to the gallon on my last trip to Buena Vista. Didn't seem to need a truck then, did I? You don't even know me. You don't know my needs. You don't know what I haul around. I'm a single girl, for heaven's sake! What business does a single girl have owning a truck? Tell me that!"
And I wished upon wished that I had just said it all right there.
Really would have taught him a lesson, huh? Right? RIGHT?!?