Trucks

05-11-23 00 / episode: 293

I can’t stand trucks.

I really mean pickup trucks, because those are the ones that I hate.

You're going to hear the story of why I hate pickup trucks.

Hi, and welcome to the Les Perras dot com podcast.

This is episode 293, and the topic is trucks. In particular, my intense dislike of trucks.

Ever since I was a kid, I couldn’t stand trucks.

I grew up in a small city in the middle of the country, in the middle of nowhere. Really nowhere.

When you looked out from the edge of the city, you could see nothing.
No trees or hills, no mountains, or rivers.

Just a line that was the horizon, dividing the world into earth and sky.
Trucks And there were trucks.

Trucks were the symbol of everything country.

The people of the country.

In a word, country bumpkins.

I was dazzled by the city.

The bright lights, the sounds, and the glamour of the city grabbed me.
The sound from the trucks was bad.

We were driving down the main street and a big truck drove past us and stopped at the light.

Country music boomed out of the truck.

I could feel the twang of the country guitar.

It always seemed like such a horrible sound.

It was twangy and old fashioned.

And the country music that the trucks played was either sad or complaining.

I’m a happy person and this music was trying to pull me down.

It was saying the world is not as good as it is.

I really resented that music and the message it had for us.

The smell of the trucks was bad.

There were the smokers.

It seemed like everyone from the country smoked.

And the trucks smelled of the old smoke.

If they didn’t smell of smoke, they smelled of the cheap air fresheners that tried to cover the old smoke smells.

And the language from the trucks was bad.

The people in the trucks talked differently from me.

They used bad words or slang that made my ears hurt.

They spoke of things that were old, or they complained or they talked of boring things that were unconnected to me.

the worst thing

The worst thing was the empty backs of the trucks.

I could forgive the trucks for just about everything else.

But when I saw the empty backs of the trucks, I resented them.

They were wasting fuel.

There was no sense in having the truck.

The truck is ok if you put it to use, for carrying things.

But they never carried things.

The back of the trucks were always empty.

And so as I grew up, I hated trucks.

My apologies to non-smoking truck owners who need and use their trucks in a responsible way.

If I offended you, talk to me in the comments.

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Thanks for listening.