I’m driving a truck through the recession that seems to have no end.
A 2001 Ford F-150 Laredo Super Crew. Complete with a bed extender, a paint scrape on the rear wheel thingy, and until recently a cracked windshield.
Still has less than 100,000 miles, and we bought it new as my husband’s first baby. The next year we bought a puppy as my first baby, but that’s another post.
When the lease was up on our spiffy little SUV just more than a year ago, my husband and I decided not to renew or buy, but to share.
Such a nice word, share. We shared a car before. When we lived in Chicago where there is ample public transportation and absolutely no free parking.
We shared a car when we first moved to St. Louis. Of course we lived within walking distance of work then and had no children.
Sharing seemed like a great idea to save money. Only temporary until we get our house sold and our budget balanced, right?
Our environmentally-concerned friends applauded. Their eyes glazed over calculating the waves of greenhouse gases stymied by our one-vehicle family conversion.
I have nothing against the truck. We bought it. We own it. But driving it is another thing. It is a full body experience for me. And oh, the looks I get.
Like the time I drove it to Goodwill to deliver some items we’d outgrown. The manager handling donations that day had the physique of a professional football player.
He watched me pull in, slowly bank a wide left around the lot and finally dock. I could see the wheels turning in his head as all five feet four inches,125 pounds of me dismounted to unload my cargo.
“What’s a little woman like you doing with a big truck like that?” he said.
“It’s my husband’s truck,” I said.
“He must have the city car today,” he said.
“Actually, we’re sharing,” I said.
“Oh,” he said, rendered speechless.
My kindergartner expressed it best one day in the carpool line. After the arduous climb up, he buckled himself in and said, “Why? Why are we still driving this vehicle?”
Driving the truck is not an earth-friendly choice. It is not a symptom of my bout with mid-life crisis. It is not an attempt to show how tough I am, how Southern I am, or how syrupy sweet we-share-everything with my spouse I am.
Bottom line, it is a financial decision.
Best I can figure, the truck is a generous provision from God to meet our needs.
Best I can hope, our days as a one-truck family will only last until my country and I can get back to business as usual.
And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19 NIV
Keep on Truckin’ by Nev Nicholls. This is a classic, folks.