Perhaps it was because the pedals had just fallen off my cheap, eco-friendly Wal-Mart bike and sent me flying over the handlebars; or perhaps it was the fact that a sporty compact car had just run me off the road and I wanted to see it crushed like a Hot Wheels under a cinderblock; or perhaps the impact with the sidewalk had damaged my higher brain functions and my Y chromosome had taken over. Whatever the reason, I suddenly felt a deep, primordial urge to drive a truck. Of course, I also felt the urge to watch professional wrestling, so the brain damage explanation is starting to sound more likely.
I don't mean just any truck, either. I want a truck that eats other trucks for breakfast, then spends all day running over dinosaurs and dodging landmines. You know those commercials that start out with the movie trailer voice guy, who says something like, "In a world where stuff needs to be run over…" He then pauses and the screen slowly fades from black as the epic movie soundtrack music comes in with something like, "One truck…RUNS. STUFF. OVER."
Cut to slow motion shots of the truck driving through quicksand, crushing the Rocky Mountains and using its trailer hitch to pull down the Eiffel Tower while a heavy metal rendition of the Star Spangled Banner blares in the background. (It's always muddy, too. In fantasy truck world, everything's covered in at least three feet of mud and there's nothing less than a 45 degree angle. There must be an entire landscaping team dedicated to spraying mud on everything and grating over any gentle slopes.)
The announcer comes back on with, "You need a truck with more horsepower than the Kentucky Derby! A truck with the strength, dependability and gas mileage of an A1 Abrams tank!"
Well, my truck will eat that truck. Some naysayers may point out that the likelihood of me running into the Rocky Mountains or a pit of flaming quicksand on my regular commute to school is pretty slim. I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that those naysayers don't have a handy little logic supplement identified as copious amounts of testosterone. Trust me, it makes the world much easier to understand.
They might argue that fuel efficiency and environmental preservation are much more important than whatever overcompensation issues underlie my desire for this vehicle. Allow me to introduce the "Guy Logic Equation." {a > bs} Wherein a is the awesomeness of my idea, and bs is whatever the opposing point is.
In the interest of compromise and environmental preservation, I'll agree to cut out the middle man. My truck will be modified to run directly off of the rainforest. (It gets about two miles to the acre.) No, I take that back, my truck will be modified to run directly off of the flesh of endangered species (it gets about 2 miles for every white-eared marmoset.)
I'm still figuring out the other features I'm going to want. So far, the only things that are definite are seat warmers and at least seven exhaust pipes. I was thinking about an aftermarket paint job - you know, with skulls and flames and flaming skulls and all that. Then I figured it would just be more practical to attach flamethrowers. And I'll definitely need a winch on the front, just in case I run into the Eiffel Tower. I'll get spinning rims, too, only my spinning rims will have actual lawn-mower blades instead of those crappy chrome-plastic ones.
In fact, my truck will just have lawnmowers strapped to all eight wheels. And of course, a 12-foot ladder so I can actually get into the thing, although I think that's standard.
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