My Macho Car, Part Deux

As with anything I write, immediately after I posted yesterday's entry, I began to think of all the things I left out. OK, fine. My husband started pointing out all the things I left out. I forgot to share that my mother's very favorite part of driving a truck as opposed to a car was the ability to run over the curb. She took great joy in this, as do I from time to time. It's just fun. If you've never tried it, I highly recommend it. Just make sure you're in a truck. Fiberglass spoilers on cars do not take kindly to running over the curb. Ask my T Bird.
My mother also shared my "I'm bigger than you and I will run your ass over" attitude when driving a truck. It's the prevailing thought in my mind when some chick in a Mini or a teeny tiny Beemer pulls out in front of me. I could drive over the top of your car without looking back. I win. Having spent a lot of time in a boat as a kid, I was taught early that bigger is righter.
Speaking of bigger, not only did Arnold look tough, he was tough! I'm pretty sure that truck saved my life coming home from Memphis one day. I was cruising along about 70 miles an hour when the tiny Japanese POS in front of me blew a tire. I'm not sure whether the driver jerked it left, or it just went that way on its own. I moved over trying to avoid her just as she swerved into my lane. She hit the right rear corner of my truck, popping my tire and pushing me off into the median before hitting the end of the bridge we were on. Going from asphalt to grass at 70 mph is not an experience I wish to repeat. Add to that the torrent of CD's raining down on my head from the sun visor, and I wasn't sure which end was up for a few minutes. The happy ending was this: had it not been for my flat tire, I could have driven my truck home. I didn't have a scratch. The Elantra and its driver were not so lucky. If you wonder someday why my kids drive a tank, wonder no more.
Adding to the appeal of my macho car is its ability to drive in places other than on the road. My kids are intimately acquainted with the phrase, "Hang on, girls, we're going cross country!" Four wheel drive (or as my hubby likes to call it "fo tire pull")  is the best thing ever invented. I think it ought to come standard on all vehicles.
These days I drive a three quarter ton, four wheel drive piece of American ingenuity. Okay fine, it's not all twisted steel and sex appeal, but it does look tough for a grocery getter. So far, the crowning achievements for my current Suburban "Mighty Whitey" have been his rescue skills. (Hey, I have three little girls. We name everything.) When I told my husband I was writing a post about my macho cars, he said, "Hey Babe, you used your three quarter ton grocery getter to pull out a TRACTOR that was stuck in the arena yesterday. Now how many women can say that?" Duly noted.