Many times I've allowed my ego to write checks that my body cannot cash. You know, bragging and going on about the success I exude from every pore... what a bore... right?! Such is the crux of the tale I choose to share.
In humble community I spied this Chevy truck. My-oh-my a 1967, and loaded with 'unapparent' goodies. Though the 'Green' angel sitting on my shoulder was warning me, I thought, “oh c'mon, it's an old Chevy, what's the harm with a test drive?” Eight cyclinders, a 350 under the hood, no automatic steering, three gears on the column, and a hair-trigger clutch; what could go wrong? A friend and I took the plundge, and I really mean that, as they're were no seatbelts! Add leather seats and I was definitely 'going' places!
I cranked that bad boy up, easied the clutch out, barely touching the gas pedal, and was slammed back into the seat. I took a slight right hand turn and heard tires squalling as I fish-tailed out of the parking lot; like so: “ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKK”... Immediately I was terrified as I fought to regain control. (regain?) Slipped my foot off of the gas and jumped my way to the first traffic light.
The straight steering had left me breathless; I looked over at my friend to see how she was fairing. People react differently to trauma; at least that was what I was feeling – traumatized. But she was laughing. She laughed during the entire test drive. She even felt 'impressed' by the way I handled the huge steering wheel. I didn't have the heart or humility to tell her that 'IT' handled me. I only know that once I parked that truck I was no longer entranced. The good thing is that I think I fixed my spine that had been out of place.(grin)
The next day I test drove this van, bought it, and I'm very happy. If I need a truck I can always remove the seats to haul something around... like my enlarged ego, and a recipe for 'humble pie'.
