My Greatest Fantasy; or, Chasin' a Chevy Dream

I've got truck envy. I've had it for years. Just ask my wife. After we first met, I described to her in a letter my dream truck. I wrote: "I'd love to have a big Chevy Z-71 4x4 off-road extended cab stepside w/a 454 engine, skid plates, 42-inch Super Swampers (tires), a Warn winch, steel-chrome brush guard bumper, and a rollbar w/ KCs across the top. Oh yeah, and a trailer hitch. And big rebel flag mudflaps. And maybe a couple of 15-inch Kickers being pushed by 2 100-watt amps. But I digress. And glass packs."

Oh yeah, and a lift kit. And I want it in blue. Or silver. But that's all. Basically, I wanted a Bigfoot. (Here is a "lite" version of what I'm talking about.)

While in high school, I was walking to a fine eating establishment in Monroe, La., (Burger King) and saw a truck that fit many of those specifications. I had to suck the drool back in my mouth. To this day, seeing such a truck makes my stomach flip.

Back in the day, I drove my father's Toyota pickup. Couldn't exactly go mudhogging in that, but it got me around. It was a manual shift, and I could bald a tire in second gear. You work with what you've got.

Now that I'm married with four kids, my dream truck would be quite impractical. Not to mention expensive. Yet, when I cross paths with a tricked-out ride, I daydream for a moment. Sitting up high, blowing out windshields when I rev the rumbling engine, splashing through small lakes. Oh, mother, that'd be sweet.

Oh well. My Honda's a good little car. Maybe I could put some spinner rims on it …

Today's Redneck Moment: I was watching my 4-year-old son playing in the house, and his little water gun was sticking out of his back pocket. I don't know, just struck me as funny.