The Geek drives an old truck.
I'm not talking a retro cool, turquoise-1950's-Ford-or-Chevy old here.
I'm talking about just an old, red truck.
It's a 1995 Nissan King Cab and it has I don't even know how many miles on it. It's not even pimped out or decorated or anything.
Here, look:
It gets better. Here's a closeup of one of his head lights:
One of the tail lights in back?
Red tape.
And here's what his steering column looks like:
That's right. No plastic cover so the innards are exposed.* It's been that way for years.
And you know the vents that are at the top of your hood to keep out debris like leaves and twigs and squirrels? His are gone. GONE. Gone also for years.
None of this seems to matter to The Geek, who takes a certain amount of pride driving that nameless dinosaur to work day in and day out. People at the office have given him a hard time about it too, which has done nothing but make him dig in his heels deeper and keep trucking along, so to speak, in The Little Red Nissan. He's had to push start it at the office before and you know what lesson Mitch took away from that one?
He's an elderly statesman because the kids who helped--kids who were old enough to have professional jobs--literally did not know you could jump start a car by popping the clutch.**
It should go without saying that over time he's become quite attached to it. When Lil' Red was in the hospital not long ago, Mitch had access to and was driving a 5-speed Volvo, 2010 model.
A VOLVO!
His response when he picked up his own vehicle? The one with the barely working air conditioning in July in Oklahoma?
"I missed my truck."
Which brings me to the point of my story. A few weeks ago he went out of town and three miles outside the airport the truck broke down. We worked out logistics for me to go get it and when I got to the truck, I found this:
I would say I was surprised to find the note, but here's the punch line of my story:
This happens all the time.
I'm not joking.
All. The. Time.
About a year ago I was watering plants in my driveway and a perfect stranger approached me:
Said Him: Is that little Nissan for sale?
Said Me: No, it's not.
Said Him: Well here's my information anyway. Call me if you change your mind.
EVERY time Mitch brings in the truck in to his preferred guy (he won't entrust it to just anyone, you see) said guy offers to buy the truck.
You guys, we're sitting on a gold mine.
Lil' Red is our retirement plan. ->
*If that's not a metaphor, I don't know what is.
**I was never very good at that, but I distinctly remember having to do it once in a parking lot in south OKC. Oddly enough, I was driving a Nissan.
I'm not talking a retro cool, turquoise-1950's-Ford-or-Chevy old here.
I'm talking about just an old, red truck.
It's a 1995 Nissan King Cab and it has I don't even know how many miles on it. It's not even pimped out or decorated or anything.
Here, look:
It gets better. Here's a closeup of one of his head lights:
One of the tail lights in back?
Red tape.
And here's what his steering column looks like:
 |
| Spiders have set up camp in there: an indication of the time frame. |
And you know the vents that are at the top of your hood to keep out debris like leaves and twigs and squirrels? His are gone. GONE. Gone also for years.
None of this seems to matter to The Geek, who takes a certain amount of pride driving that nameless dinosaur to work day in and day out. People at the office have given him a hard time about it too, which has done nothing but make him dig in his heels deeper and keep trucking along, so to speak, in The Little Red Nissan. He's had to push start it at the office before and you know what lesson Mitch took away from that one?
He's an elderly statesman because the kids who helped--kids who were old enough to have professional jobs--literally did not know you could jump start a car by popping the clutch.**
It should go without saying that over time he's become quite attached to it. When Lil' Red was in the hospital not long ago, Mitch had access to and was driving a 5-speed Volvo, 2010 model.
A VOLVO!
His response when he picked up his own vehicle? The one with the barely working air conditioning in July in Oklahoma?
"I missed my truck."
Which brings me to the point of my story. A few weeks ago he went out of town and three miles outside the airport the truck broke down. We worked out logistics for me to go get it and when I got to the truck, I found this:
 |
| He likes to Capitalize. For Emphasis, one assumes. |
This happens all the time.
I'm not joking.
All. The. Time.
About a year ago I was watering plants in my driveway and a perfect stranger approached me:
Said Him: Is that little Nissan for sale?
Said Me: No, it's not.
Said Him: Well here's my information anyway. Call me if you change your mind.
EVERY time Mitch brings in the truck in to his preferred guy (he won't entrust it to just anyone, you see) said guy offers to buy the truck.
You guys, we're sitting on a gold mine.
Lil' Red is our retirement plan. ->
*If that's not a metaphor, I don't know what is.
**I was never very good at that, but I distinctly remember having to do it once in a parking lot in south OKC. Oddly enough, I was driving a Nissan.
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