Photography by Lori K. Tate
As The Tots and I backed out of our driveway last Friday morning, I realized I had a flat tire. It wasn’t a huge surprise since my “you have something in your tire” light came on the day before. (Understand that if my XM radio flaked out on me, I would had that problem taken care of immediately, but something as trivial as a tire can wait, right?)
Needless to say, I forgot about it until my minivan groaned while rolling onto our street. Luckily, my husband left his pickup truck, so in minutes we were en route to school. We weren’t even tardy, and the best part is that mama got to drive the truck.
Here’s a fun fact you probably wouldn’t guess about Miss Priss me. I love driving pickup trucks. I mean, I LOVE IT. When I’m behind the wheel of our 2000 Ford F150, I feel like there’s no stopping me. Just try to cut me off on Catawba Avenue. You won’t — because I’m driving a pickup. Want me to speed up in the toll lane? I don’t have to because I’m driving a pickup.
As soon as I get behind the wheel of this sucker, I start cooking up my backstory. Maybe I’m some unassuming rancher that left her corporate job to raise sheep for a sweater business. Maybe I own a construction company. Or maybe I’m just a cool chick who drives a pickup. Whatever the story is, I love the power this vehicle gives me, and I’m not alone.
During carpool on Friday, I felt beyond cool when one of my friends, also married to a car guy, immediately noticed my sweet ride. “Nice 1-5-0,” she said. I looked at her with a knowing response that only women who enjoy driving trucks could understand.
A couple of years ago, one of my friends needed to leave a party to take her daughter to a babysitting gig. Her car was blocked in, so John offered her our pickup. Raised in the country like me, she jumped at the chance to drive it. I knew right then she would become one of my best friends.
Pickups have so much going for them. Not only do they sit up high (higher than SUVs), they also allow you to haul things — big things. These are things you probably shouldn’t lift on your own but choose to do so anyway because you drive a truck. I love raising my hand when a friend asks, “Does anyone have a truck? I need help with yada, yada.” There’s no stopping the power this vehicle emits to the world.
But perhaps my favorite thing about our pickup is how it flattens people’s preconceived notions about me when I drive it. Say whatever you want, but most folks expect a dude wearing work pants to jump out of it. Imagine their surprise when they get me, clad in yoga pants and wearing a ponytail or even better, donning a Lilly Pulitzer dress. Their expressions are priceless, and although it’s great fun, it’s also an exercise in how quickly we (very much including me) judge people.
We have so many engrained stereotypes about people that we get in our own way of getting to know them. Ever heard any of these? Tall people play basketball. Only children are spoiled. Preacher’s kids are hell-raisers. Blondes are stupid. Southern blondes are extra stupid. I could go on.
The truth is we don’t know a person until we get to know that person. And if you’re like me, you enjoy a good surprise. I’ll never forget the time when I found out that one of my good friends, who is actually prissier than I am, opted to go to Bojangles’ for her Mother’s Day lunch — wearing Lilly Pulitzer no less. I thought that was just fabulous. And I’ll bet you wouldn’t believe that my dad and I tried to sneak on Willie Nelson’s tour bus at his concert, but we sure as heck did. Surprise!
You see, what you think you know about someone might be right or it might be downright wrong. Isn’t it worth finding out? That sounds like a lot more fun to me.
Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go for a drive in my pickup.