circa 1985, h.p. india.

circa 1985, h.p. india.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

the truck crap.


so i sold the prowler. that's it that's all, as they say in masham, wherever that is. i decided i'd buy a tremendously less expensive and infinitely more maneuverable high-top truck cap instead. i decided i'd simply put my camping mattress, stove, and especially my invaluable porta-potti all in there and i'd be good to go, so to speak.

the only small problem was finding an old high-top truck crap that'd fit my old half-ton truck, but i did. it's ugly, only it fit like the proverbial glove, and not like o.j. simpson's glove. it was the right fit. at around eleven that first night, i decided to check out how difficult it'll be to get the flap and tail-gate closed from inside. i put a light shirt and pyjama pants on and sashayed out to the truck in the dark. i unlocked the flap, lowered the tail-gate, rolled in and managed to slam both shut behind me. it was really not difficult at all. i was quite pleased. however, then another little thought began to niggle at me, as i sat there in the darkness: how was i going to get out?

immediately upon realizing i had successfully locked myself tightly into the box of my truck, i had to acknowledge yet again that, in sharp contrast to my wonderful public persona, i am actually dumb as a post. i jiggled and fiddled with the mechanism for what must've been three-quarters of an hour. i'd stop and try other things, then go back to fiddling and jiggling. i got my fingers stuck several times trying to manipulate the workings of it. it felt like i was a neanderthal learning to use wooden implements for the first time or a chimp learning sign language. it did not go well. eventually i accepted the very real possibility that i might have to actually spend the night in there.

meanwhile, holding on to some semblance of intelligence, i recalled how stephen hawking allegedly once (somehow) said that 'real intelligence is the ability to adapt to changing circumstances.' i didn't really think that at the time, but it sounds good. anyway, i clawed open one of the little side windows, stared at the opening for a long time. it looked way way too small, but i somehow managed to contort my body and, one limb at a time, slither out. it was not easy. climbing out was painful. i hurt a very sensitive private part, but i don't really need my ego anymore anyway.

"i don't really get offended by all the dumb blond jokes. i know i'm not dumb. i also know i'm not blond." dolly parton. 

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