The Coveralls

My husband's birthday is later on this month and I asked him last week what he would like.

Brace yourselves.

source

Coveralls.

For to cover all.

Fantastic.  And hang on to that thought.  It shall be important in a bit.

Our Excursion has broken down, so I am stuck with the good ol' truck this week.  I have issues with the truck.  It is so high maintenance, what with its CB radio, clutch, winch, and four wheel drive features.

Question.  Does anyone else ever forget what gear they are in and have a panic attack whilst careening down the highway because they don't know which direction to put the big stick thingie?

Because if you were in 4th and you put in in 3rd, the truck is going to be livid and make all sorts of noises and bucking motions. But if you were in 3rd and put it in 5th, you would lose all sorts of power and manliness.

Not that I ever have issues with the transmission.

  See what I mean?  Trucks are high maintenance.

So, I am driving from Ruralville (I still hate that name) to the city and smoke is coming out of the hood.  This is never a good sign.   Luckily, I was in downtown Ruralville at the time, so I had the local liquor store/car repair shop available.

Why, yes!  My town has a liquor store/car repair shop!  Doesn't yours?

Anyone who's anyone knows liquor and car repairs go hand in hand.  One stop shopping. 

I had called David and he told me to just ask them to help me put coolant in it.  So, I walk into the doors and there is a table with several men sitting, smoking, and playing poker.

Men:  Hello, there!

Me:  Hi.  Is this your shop?

Men:  Nope.

Me:  Do you know where the owner is?

Men:  Nope.

So, they were helpful.  And I swear that half of them were wearing coveralls.

And that is what we shall mourn on this day.  Because on this day, I saw my future.

And it looks oily. 

So, I found the owner.  He was really not too concerned about me, the damsel in distress with the four children and the smoking hood, that I was.  And he tried to help me for about 8 seconds and then wandered off muttering.  So I called David and he, being my knight in shining Carhartts, came to my rescue.

Now, David is the man.  We already knew this.  But in about 10 minutes, he had located the nearest Napa Auto Parts store and secured the parts needed to correct the problem.  Which apparently was more than just absent coolant.  But do you think I know what the problem was?  No, I do not.  Because I do not speak "truck."  Nor do I care to.

But here's the wretched part.

He had to tow me.

You may ask: "Taylor!  Why not just call a tow truck?"

And I would laugh at your foolishness and reply: "Have you MET my husband?"

 David and his truck are fully equipped for all emergencies.  If you were to walk out to his truck right now, here are some items you would find:

Wrenches

Ratchets

Chainsaw Ear Plugs

Work Gloves

Bullet shells

Tie-Downs

A Gun Rack, sans guns

Sunglasses

Gum

Baby Wipes

Waylon Jennings CD

Fuses

Coupons

And a plethora of peanut M&Ms

So, David takes one of the tie downs and hooks the truck up to his work vehicle.

People!  Have you ever had the priviledge of driving a vehicle that is being towed?

It is deplorable.

The tow rope thingie was about 10-15 feet long.  This is not long.  No.  Not when you are driving a truck with no power steering or brakes and your husband is towing you 12 miles going 45 miles per hour.

Is he INSANE?

Yes.  Yes, he is.

I survived and no one perished in a fiery car wreck.  David was able to fix whatever was wrong with things and then he and his peanut M&Ms drove off into the sunset.

The children and I still needed to head into the big city to go to Costco and the grocery store.

Good times.

At the very end of the day, around 7pm, we are checking out at the grocery store.  We've had no dinner or naps and we are tired and sweaty.

Because, oh!  Did I tell you?  The air conditioning is broken in the truck.

Are we surprised?

No, we are not.

Anyways.  As I am trying to peel Handsome Dude off of the floor of the checkout line and tear out my coupons, because who has time to come to the store prepared?, the lady next to me interrupts me.

Lady:  Miss!  Do your children work as models?

Me:  Oh!  No . . .

Lady:  Oh!  Because they all have such unique faces.  So different . . .

Me:  Oh!  Well, thanks . . .

Lady:  Look at your face!  I have never seen anything like it!  Such different features . . . hmmm . . . weird . . .

Me:  Oh!  Well  . . .Ok

Man in front of me:  Miss!  Grapes!  GRAPES!

And I turn to see the dudes "helping" put the grapes on the line.

But really they are just dumping them out everywhere.

But holla to Mr. Grapes who saved me from creepy lady who thinks I have a weird face and should get paid for it!

Alright.  I am tired.  And I don't know if this post made sense.

But I shan't worry about that now.

For I need to go to sleep.

Because tomorrow . . . tomorrow me and my "unique" face are doing it all over again.

Oh, yes.

Eye doctor.

Big City.

High-Maintenace Truck.

Four children.

No air conditioning.

Bring it.