Do you ever think about trucks? I do. But that’s likely because I live in Arkansas. Highway arteries of America in fully oxygenated swing.
Flatbed trucks stacked with hay bales.
Trucks loaded high with chickens in cages. Only takes one trip riding behind one with feathers flying into your windshield to realize one trip is one trip too many.
Pickup trucks, come one, come all. No truck too big, no truck too small. Doors optional. Capacity unlimited.
You say you want to leave that truck on the side of the road? Go right ahead, sir.
You also want to leave your friend in the median with one truck and pick him up with another a few hours later? Unorthodox, but I like your style.
And, of course, the Walmart trucks. Ubiquitous. See spark run. See spark swerve. See spark honk.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about trucks.