Ben and I took a fishing and talking trip to the mountains several years ago. While driving through the Texas Panhandle, we passed an old pickup left in a pasture along the road. I’ve lately been thinking about that old pickup and got to wondering about the roads it traveled and the kinds of things it might say if it could talk.
I imagine it saying things like …
“You know that I was built to work, right?”
“I burn the gas just as good off the bottom of the tank as the top.”
“The sun feels good, but too much, over time, is really pretty hard on my paint.”
“The speedometer is there for a reason.”
“I need you to take care of me. Do that, and I stand a good chance of working for you for a long time.”
“It’s a good idea to check my oil once in a while. That’s a good start.”
“You really should look where you’re going. There’s plenty of time to look at the map before you take off. Do that and it’ll save us both a bunch of extra miles.”
“I recommend keeping clutter off the floorboard.”
“Keep it off the seat too.”
“That area right beside you… that’s where your sweetheart belongs. Sure, she can drive. Sometimes better than you. But that don’t mean she should have to.”
“Now, you want to pay special attention here. Just because I burn the gas off the bottom of the tank just as good as the top don’t mean you should run me dry. Do that and I’m dead on the side of the road and you’re afoot.”
“I don’t do too good on bad gas, so pay attention to the quality you buy. You may spend a little more up front, but I suspect that you’ll save in the long run.”
“Extra stuff just weighs me down. Load up what you need when you need it. Take it out and put it up when you’re done with it. I’m not here to store your junk or anyone else’s.”
“A bath now and then don’t hurt none either. If you don’t believe me, ask your sweetheart.”
“Fancy wheels, paint jobs, or doodads don’t help me do my job. The engineer that designed me knew what he was doing. Aint nothing wrong with an honest gained dent or scuff. But the rest of that stuff just screams, “Look at me.” I’d just as soon be known for my hard work and reliability.”
“I do need an alignment every now and then. Take a look in that glove box. You’ll find a manual in there with a likeness of me on the cover. It’ll confirm a lot of this stuff and a good bit more, too. Read it. That’ll spare you a lot of grief.”
“That glovebox is a good place for a Bible as well. Read that too.”
“I know you’ve got places to go and work to do… but those windows all around me are for more than letting light in. Look around some and enjoy the scenery. One day you’ll be old and wore out like me. Use your time well. Spend it doing what you were meant to do, with the ones you were meant to do it with.”
That all sounds like pretty good advice, even if it does come from an old pickup.
…
Photo by Gene or Ben Muckleroy somewhere in the Texas Panhandle.