Oh So Cold Those Centerfolds

I feel like I’ve just pulled into a topless bikini party and I’m not allowed to stare, not because I’m trying to be a gentleman but because I’m taken. I park my Tacoma in the Toyota Dealership next to her new improved models and I can feel her giving me the cold shoulder already.

“What?” I probe. “I haven’t even done anything and you’re upset.” But I have. When we were searching for parking I totally glanced at the 2010 Tundra’s tailgate long enough to be deemed inappropriate and borderline creepy. Can you blame me? Just because I have my Tacoma doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes you know? Sure, that Tundra probably had upgrades. That tailgate may have been a third party installed but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t look nice.

I turn back at my truck, before entering the servicing department, to see her moping. The sun shines on her the wrong way and the dent, that one day magically appeared, sticks out like Asian people at a rock concert. Her rear bumper, lop-sided from an SUV who back up into her while she sat parked outside a house party that I was at, looked ever so dull. Let’s just say she’s not as perfect as those Toyota brochures I keep hidden behind my Maxims magazines in the bathroom. Shhhhhhhhhhh.

I get a text.

“Your the best.” It’s from Kendall, my adorable new love interest.

Tsk tsk tsk. She spelt “you’re” wrong. To you it may not mean anything but to a respected blogger such as myself it’s serious business! I once ended a 2 week relationship over a there/their, your/you’re mix up (on the girl’s part of course).

A bell rings as I open the glass door to the dealership and a service rep calls me over. “That time again I see.”

“Yes.” I replied glancing out the window to my mud covered, low tire-pressured transport.

“Ok I got you booked for tomorrow at 4pm. What are you guys at now? 42000 km?”

“Yup, we drove down the Okanogan to visit the wineries last summer.” I reminisced with a chuckle. “There was this one winery that had rocks poured out as their drive way. I know, weird right? I mean, haven’t you heard of cement? Hahahahahaha. Anyways, all these people in their Mercedes coupe and such had to park like 100 meters away and walk to the place, which was on a hill by the way. Boy, were they mad when they saw us just driving up that driveway with her 4X4. One old couple had the nerve to ask me for a ride. Can you believe that? You know what I said? I said, “Fuck y--”

“NEXT!”

I know, rude right? I exited the building to be greeted by a 2010 Tacoma, fully loaded, being hosed down, water dripping down her rear fender in happy little beads. I recognized her in that sparkling blue coat instantly. Aluminum custom side step bars, Bluetooth compatibility, 6 LCD screens, review camera, bull bars, powered rear window - she’s the center fold on the February Edition of Dumps like a Truck Magazine. I think I drooled a little.

“Beautiful, ain’t she?” A man in a white suit, comparable to Colonel Sanders, sees me with my mouth open and possibly making inappropriate noises.

“Yes sir! Are you the owner?” I slurped the remaining drool neatly back where it came from.

“That I am, son,” he spoke with a snotty tone in his shiny alligator shoes, which he mentions to me later are real. He let me sit in the drivers seat, which I had to sneak into on the account of the old lady seeing.

“Man, these leather seats are uncomfortable!” I observe.

“Sure, but they look amazing don’t they?”

“I guess so…Look at those suspensions! I bet she handles well in the rough lands eh? eh? eh?” I dismounted the beast and nudge him a couple of time in his jelly belly, which protruded from his expensive dress shirt.

“Don’t touch me, boy!” He brushes himself off, irritated at my questions, “and I wouldn’t know. She’s a show truck! Got only 500 kms on her, for Christ sakes! Take him away!”

Colonel Sanders’ bodyguard pushed me through the parkade back to my Tacoma. 500 kms? That’s barely living. Where’s the history? The experiences? THE FUN!? That’s not a truck at all. That’s a toy put out on display.

I climbed into the comfortable confines of my vehicle and relaxed in her embrace. I took my phone out and texted Kendall back. “No, your the best!”

I trace the huge crack across my windsheild and then I kiss my steering wheel. "You're perfect for me! Don't ever change."