There's just something women like about a pick-up man.

February 11, 2011



Adventures with The Behemoth continue.

I did drive the kids to work yesterday.

Mer wanted me to pick her up 15 minutes before she was supposed to be at work.

She needed time to shower.

Tough.

Go to work stinky.

Because there is no way I was putting myself in the position where I had to drive that thing while panicking about getting kids to work on time.

Thank you very much.

Seeing that protesting about the time I had set to her pick up wasn't going to get her anywhere, she changed tack.

Asking if she, she of the no-driver's-licence, could drive The Behemoth.

It would seem that I am not able to appreciate the full power and magnitude of this beast.

That my not tapping into its full horsepower potential is insulting to the truck and everyone who loves driving these things.

And she was more than willing to show me the awesomeness of its power and glory.

Edging me on to jump that curb and try plowing through that snowbank.

Drive over the car that just cut me off.

You can probably figure out for yourself how that turned out.







And in spite of my insistence that last evening's child labour taxi would be my last, I may have to drive it again this morning.

The kids, I have been informed, feel safer if I'm driving this monstrosity.

Apparently, my gentle, caring, peace loving, cleaning-obsessed husband morphs into a testosterone infused Incredible Hulk-like being when he's behind the wheel of The Behemoth.

News to me.

Everytime I've been in this thing, I've been behind the wheel.

So last evening, after Stephen had finished teaching, I informed him that he was driving.

Let me just say that getting in and out of the passenger side of this gargantuan monolith is actually harder than getting in on the driver's side.

There is no steering wheel for me to grab onto as an aid in my most ungraceful and unladylike climb into the front seat.

I had to grab onto Stephen.

And as soon as he started up the engine, I knew what Em was talking about.

The glint in his eyes.

How his hands gripped the steering wheel with such obvious excitement and delight.

His entire demeanor shifted from peace maker to where's-the-nearest-woodland-so-I-can-let-loose-with-this-baby-and-see-what-she-can-REALLY-do.

If he had turned the radio station to country music, I would have made him stop, booted him out and he could walk the remainder of the way home.

I have my limits.

As it is necessary I will drive around in a truck the size of a bus.

I will even drive the thing myself, if it is required.

But I will NOT listen to country music.

I insist on retaining some modicum of dignity.






I called the car rental agency yesterday afternoon to inquire about exchanging the truck for a car.

Which is something we WILL be doing today.

No matter what anyone thinks.

Unfortunately, there was not a normal sized car anywhere to be found.

Until later today.

I shared with the man who owns the car rental agency some of my anxiety regarding the maneuvering of The Behemoth.

As a means of trying to ease my stress, comfort me, he said his wife, who is five feet, feels exactly the same way.

Perhaps this is one of those situations where four inches really would make a difference.






I expect tears in Stephen's eyes when we bid adieu to The Behemoth.

He'll wipe them away as he gently caresses her, whispering sweet nothings to her, promising they'll meet again.

I'll have to pull him away as he looks over his shoulder, gazing longingly at what was and what could have been.

And when we climb into the car, and at this point, a Ford Fiesta would be fine for me, he'll begin to reminisce about the spacious front seat, the ease of movement.

At least I wouldn't worry about plowing over small children, and drivers will stop looking at me with absolute terror in their eyes when they look up, way up, at me.

No longer will the ten point turn be required to get out of just about anywhere smaller than a football field.

Parking will not mean taking up three spaces because I need at least that much room to park it and get the doors open.

And I won't have to pass the hat for all the onlookers who have stopped to gawk and gleefully laugh at my trying to get in and out of this thing.

Although the extra cash has come in handy.



Title Lyric: Pick Up Man by Joe Diffie