I am a truck guy

F150, 4.9 liter, inline 6.

Feb 9

I like trucks. I am a truck guy. A beer and burgers guy. I am a big power, a whole lotta torque guy. A small town, big dreams guy. I haven’t been regular in three months guy. A meat and potatoes guy. I am a truck guy. I like trucks. I like old trucks. Classic trucks. Trucks that aren’t trying to intimidate anyone. Trucks that just wanna haul. Pull. Tow. Trucks that don’t go 0-60 in 3.4 seconds. Trucks that don’t go 60. Trucks that’ll get there when they get there. Trucks with no bells and whistles. Trucks with no gimmicks. No upgrades. No misbehavior. No segue. The 2006 film Casino Royale has a torture scene. Daniel Craig is naked, strapped to a chair with the center of the seat cut out. Mads Mikkelsen ferociously whips Daniel Craig’s balls in what is undoubtably the most peculiar James Bond clip I’ve ever seen. But Bond doesn’t fold. He perseveres. He persists. Old trucks are James Bond’s balls. Well-built. Rugged. Sensible. Double ow ow seven. I am a truck guy. I like trucks. I do not like The Last of Us. I like Ron Swanson. I like mushrooms. I like zombie shows. I like Boston. I like the hotel manager from season one of The White Lotus. I like post-apocalyptic. I do not like The Last of Us. I like pasta. I eat a lot of fucking pasta. I buy body wash from my local hardware store. I am a scumbag little shit. Paragraphs are overrated. Sentence structure is overrated. Mankind is overrated, underrated. Tax man eat ass. SSRIs have side effects. Old trucks last too long. Old trucks are too simple. Too reliable. Too fuerte. James Bond doesn’t fold. He perseveres. He persists. Old trucks are James Bond’s balls. I like old trucks. I am a truck guy. I am a paranoid guy. OCD is constant paranoia. A constant of paranoia. I am a little OCD guy. Don’t piss on a fire, whispers Smokey the Bear. Nobody likes the smell of burnt piss. Can’t go to the gym because you’re afraid you’re a pervert. Can’t drive a car because you’re afraid you’ll kill someone. Can’t leave the house without feeling like you’ve pissed and shit yourself. Can’t use your phone without clicking Settings—Safari—Clear History and Website Data—Advanced—Website Data—Remove All Website Data—Advanced—Safari—Clear History and Website Data—Home—Files—Recents—Browse—Downloads—Home—Messages—[hold to paste]—Home—Safari—[hold to paste]—History—Reading List—Bookmarks—Done—Private—Home—Photos—Recents—Albums—Shared Albums—Hidden—Recently Deleted—Home—Notes—Home—Mail—Inbox—Drafts—Sent—Home—Settings—Safari—Clear History and Website Data—Advanced—Website Data—Remove All Website Data—Advanced—Safari—Clear History and Website Data—Home. I am easy to forget. I say things like “Absolute LEGEND. That’s crisppp. Shit hot. NICE, king.” That makes me less easy to forget. I complain brag to my friends. I spray my skin with Clorox to get the perverse images out of my head. Classic trucks are good trucks. Classic trucks are honest trucks. Classic trucks are practical trucks. Too loud? Speak up. Too cold? Wear a jacket. No airbags? Duck. No three-point seatbelts? Brace for impact. Turn the key. Pray. I like trucks. I am a truck guy. What’s that? What am I doing? Oh, just fixin’ trucks, eatin’ subs. Old trucks persevere. Old trucks persist. I like old trucks. I am a truck guy.