Earl

Being married to a gregarious, socializing man has its advantages.  A conversation on a beach in Hawaii led us to the discovery of a hole-in-the-wall local restaurant serving the best Eggs Benedict ever.  Tagging along with a family crossing a tricky, wrong-way traffic (for us) intersection in Ireland garnered a man-to-man confession of a "bit of a bet on the local rugby match" with instructions to "not tell the missus!"  Chatting has helped us solve dilemmas from where to find tractor parts to navigating strange cities.


However, occasionally it can backfire.


We were visiting our daughter and family in Iowa, where Hubby is now a semi-regular member of the local men's coffee group.  Our patient son-in-law makes sure Hubby gets to the local watering hole for the morning coffee and sausage and biscuit.  I suspect he enjoys listening to the tall tales before he drags Hubby off to help with the day's chores.  On this day the conversation turned to trucks.  Hubby announced that he had searched all over Kentucky for a good, used but still useful, farm truck that would pull a gooseneck and not cost an arm and a leg.


 One of the local coffee drinkers was a fence-builder and buddy of our son-in-law who just happened to moonlight with a car dealer.  "I'll find you one!" he announced.  "You do that and I'll buy it!"  Hubby challenged, in return. 


Three days later he called to tell Hubby that he had found him a truck. 


We all piled out to go check out this new truck at the friend's house.    The men proceeded to jaw and kick tires (or whatever you do when you discuss a truck) while my daughter, granddaughters and I checked out the new litter of puppies.  We returned to find the deal being struck,  The truck met all the criteria.  It was a big, heavy duty pick up capable of pulling a load of cattle, four door for hauling grandkids, reasonable mileage,  in good condition and even had a bed cover! Barring problems on a shake down drive around, we were the proud owners of another farm truck. 


We were 650 miles from home.


Hubby grinned....I just looked at him.  Three days later he got up the courage to broach the subject of how we were getting it home.  "Ummm.  Do you, ahh, mind driving home?  You can drive my truck, I'll drive the farm truck." he finished in a rush.    I just looked at him some more.  Of course, I had figured this all out from the beginning.  Who else would drive one of the trucks?


The trick was how we would work out the convoy.  I knew the hardest job would be the following truck.  It's always harder to follow and keep up.  Hubby said he would want the "new" farm  truck to be in the lead in case there was trouble.  I also knew that Hubby loved the hands free phone, XM radio, GPS and other gadgets in his truck.  Farm trucks don't need those items.  So after a quick trip to the library to check out a book on CD's(the farm truck did have a CD player!), I decided I would drive the farm truck and lead on the drive home.  (My daughter threatened my life if I didn't mail the book back promptly so she didn't get stuck with a library fine!)


The morning of the trip home dawned and we intrepid travelers got ready for the drive.  Hubby bustled around checking to see that I had what I needed, knew where the buttons were (window, ignition, radio...not complicated!), and where we would stop and refuel first.  (I've made the trip several times alone, so this fluttering was more for the truck than me.  Although, like most men, while Hubby has total confidence in my ability to drive, would never consider letting me drive while he is along.  So, his fluttering did make me giggle.) I will admit  I was a little nervous about the size of the truck.  It certainly was bigger than my car I usually drove.  However, I had driven trucks all my life so I wasn't unduly worried.


At the first stop I quizzed Hubby about how well I was staying in my lane on the country roads, still getting adjusted to the larger size and different view from the higher truck cab.  He assured me I was doing fine, so off we went again.  With every stop I grew more confident and began to enjoy my role as "leader" as we rolled across the middle of America.  For once I got to decide when to stop (frequently, since the bigger truck needed fuel more often), where to stop and when we would take rest breaks.  I even got to decide when and where we would stop for the night.  Heady stuff for me.  With every stop I became more enamored with my role as a "trucker babe" running with the big boys (only figuratively, after all it still was just a pick-up truck).  Hubby laughed quietly to himself at my new swagger.


The farm truck proved to be a gentleman on all fronts.  He took me steadily and comfortably over the miles, responding easily with no fussiness.  He was comfortable and reliable.  Although I did discover a few quirks.  The book on CD's proved to be defective so after about the third CD I had to give up and listen to the radio.  Not a problem, even if it was only a plain AM/FM radio. (How quickly we become spoiled!)  That is until I tried to use the seek button to tune in a clear station as we crossed the states.  It seemed that my gentleman truck had a penchant for Christian music. 


Not that I have anything against Christian music.  The problem is they happen to usually be very simple melodies with lots of repetition.  That's why they are so easy to sing and learn in church.  I like the message and the words, but I soon became bored with the music.  So I would hit the seek button and would land on another Christian station.  After a couple of hours of this, things started to get personal.  That's when I started fussing and nagging and Earl got his name.  "Earl!"  I would complain, "I know there has to be another station besides this one!"  "OK Earl,"  I would cajole,  "I'll listen to this for now then you can find another station!"  "Earl!!!  That's the station we just left!  You can't seriously mean to take me back to it again!"


Earl steadily maintained his music choices until we were almost home when he grudgingly allowed me to listen to trendy, secular music.  His point was made and I suspect my gentlemanly Earl felt he had done his best to see me safely across middle America in a manner befitting a lady.


I think I'm in love.