The red truck

“Shit man, that’s one mean truck.”

“Yeah, just got it from the dealer, hell of a buy.”

“Red, shit man,” Robbie said with enthusiasm.

“Didn’t spect me to buy a blue one,” Jimmy laughed.

“Guess not,” Robbie laughed at the quip.

“Wanna take a ride to the launch site? Got the cooler in the back, with 12 lites.”

“Hell, yes,” Robbie agreed.

“Hop in,” Jimmy grinned.

“Damn, almost takes a ladder to get in her,”

“Yeah, love them damn tall tires. Cost me an extra $1200.00 for them. Them 3/4 ton tires are lots.”

Robbie loved the rumble of the new Hemi. He envied Jimmy. Jimmy didn’t have no wife or kids like he had. He heard it referred to as disposable income on Fox. Jimmy had a good job pounding nails, he didn’t have to work at the factory like him. Course Jimmy didn’t have no insurance, but hell, being single he didn’t need it, like he did. Two snot-nosed kids and one more in the oven. When he and Jenny didn’t have no kids, things was easy. But once she was knocked up and she had to quit the nursing home, there weren’t no money for nothing - had to even sell his truck too.

Jimmy’s new truck’s sound was sweet, a low rumble, not a pussy truck. The custom chrome grill was a nice add-on, Robbie thought to himself. He chuckled internally. The grill could easily take out one of them nature-rats on one of those bikes that were showing up around here with them well-off folk in their black tights, or whatever they called them. Course, the college ladies that ventured to this remote rural county 60 miles from the campus were a nice feature at the local bar with the butt tight leggings. Jenny didn’t look like that anymore, stretch lines and all. God sure pulled one over on young guys. Lured them into marriage and then kids, mortgage, dead-end jobs, well, you know. Pretty soon you gotta sell your truck and vintage shotgun for diapers. “Shit ain’t fair,” he grumbled. Trump promised it would be different and he believed him, I mean what other choice did he have.

“What ja say, Robbie?”

“Just mumbling.”

At the launch site they put down the tailgate and started sucking beers, throwing the cans into the brush. Lites were cheap and no flavor, but who gives a shit, Robbie thought; the object was to get drunk till you were numb.

“Yeah, I woulda liked to put a gun rack in her like my old man’s truck but you know, that just gives the DNR a reason to stop you, cause you can’t carry no shotgun anyways. Law’s the shits.”

On the way to the launch site they’d passed a couple of blue-hairs in a blue sedan. Aren’t all blue-hairs Democrats? Robbie thought. Jimmy pushed the truck and it blazed past them. Jimmy accelerated and the loud noise jammed to a crescendo. Robbie was disgusted at their turtle-like pace. “Get the fuck off the road,” he yelled out the window.

Jimmy switched the radio to an all-talk station. “I sure do miss Rush. Only truthful announcer out there — now gone,” Jimmy lamented. “Commielaw and all them drove all the good ones off the air.”

“Shit yes,” Robbie said as he spit some chaw into an empty beer can. His mother disapproved but what does she know about a man’s life, nothin’.

“You gonna haul firewood with her?” Robbie asked.

“Hell no, scratch up the bed. Most I’ll haul is a cooler of beer,” Jimmy chuckled. “Maybe an 8-point if I get lucky this fall. Probably fly a Trump flag on her, Fourth of July parade, not sure. Don’t want her keyed by one of them college kids. You know how they are. The only calluses they got on their hands is from their bicycle handles, not a damn hammer like you and I. That’s the trouble with this country, too many damn immigrants suckin’ at the public trough. Lazy fuckers. Can’t wait till there’s a thousand busses with jabberin’ immigrants headin’ to Mexico. Gotta save our jobs somehow,” Jimmy grinned. “Not room enough in this country for all them outsiders.”

“Yep, guess so,” Robbie slurped from the beer can, rolled down the window, then tossed the empty. It rolled down the blacktop and into the ditch.