Testosterone

I was on the phone, hands-free earbuds, as I hopped into Bubba’s spare truck to get to Las Cruces to teach.

I felt manly. I felt manly hormones coursing through my veins, muscles ripped, and small cars better look out. “I’m driving a monster truck,” I exclaimed.

Not really a monster truck, but a jacked-up dual-cab four-by, and the last time I drove a truck this size? Maybe a decade ago in Austin, and that truck only had a pair of red pumps on the seat.

4-inch heels or 6-inch lift?

Bubba’s is diesel, and really, the big pick-up burning bio-diesel is more Eco-friendly than a hybrid, but anyway, I felt good. Work truck. Tools in the back. Safety vest and harness in the back seat. Headache rack. Enough engine power to merge on the freeway, not to mention height and presence, but easily got there.

View from the driver’s seat.

Hair Metal

Hair Metal

And the pain at the pump?

4 dollar diesel

4 dollar diesel

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • Bill Mar 22, 2012 @ 16:10

    Got any pictures of what was in the red pumps? Just kiddin’ although not really
    Texas is definitely pick up country. This past summer I purchased one of the last brand new V-10 M6 BMW’s. Horrible gas mileage but makes me feel just as good as your truck . Tuned for 540 horsepower and clad in leather everywhere.
    Pure testosterone.
    Bill

  • iphone Mar 22, 2012 @ 20:31

    Yeah, she was — still is — an Austin Aries.

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