Submitted by Emily (www.earlywriter.blogspot.com)

Recently my husband bought a truck. A 1986 Chevy with a finicky starter. He likes to refer to it as the “Red Dragon.” I love my husband, but not the ugly truck sitting in front of our house. It looks like “Sanford and Son.”

The other day he announces proudly, “I’m going to take the Red Dragon to work tomorrow.”

“OK, you go show it off at work.” I say. (I’d later find out this would involve a lot more work on my part than I could have ever imagined.)

The next morning at 6:30, while hugging my coffee, I check the outside temp. Sixteen degrees! Brrrrr. Ben comes in, “could you help me start my truck?” I agree reluctantly.

 ”While your holding down the clutch turn the key again and again and I am going to climb underneath.”

“You’re going to what!?!” He ignores my comment and climbs under the truck. I am beginning to feel VERY uncomfortable. It is 16 degrees and I could potentially run over my husband. (Although I must admit the idea is becoming more and more attractive by the minute.) He begins banging loudly underneath the truck and I dutifully turn the ignition over and over as I look around at the neighbors houses, looking so serene and dark. I imagine them in their warm beds thinking what is that banging? Ah, it’s our hillbilly neighbors.
 
The banging stops.  Yes! He has given up, he is going to take the practical boring old beige 4-Runner to work.

 ”Let’s put those jazzercise classes to some good use!  You push and I think that will get it started.”

I agree. I wish I had a video, not only of my 120lb body pushing this monstrosity down the street, but of my neighbors faces that were surely pressed to the glass of their front windows,

I channeled every last inch of energy in my body to pushing that truck. I threw up a prayer that God please help this truck start because apparently my husband is NEVER giving up.

“Let’s push it with the 4-Runner now.”

My entire body slumps in disappointment, but I dutifully run back and get the reliable car. I ease the front bumper onto the back of his truck, slowly press down on the accelerator, and just as we get to the end of the cul-de-sac the Red Dragon roars.

My husband waves and heads off to work. I am left stunned in the 4-Runner. I begin my drive back home, give the neighbor a friendly wave as if this is our normal morning routine, then stumble into the house, exhausted, wondering if it’s too early for a nice glass of wine.