Driving Daddy's Truck...Finally

It’s amazing what a few decades will do for your outlook and confidence. Then again when it comes to your Daddy, they can also fade away like they never existed.

When I was 15, daddy had a midnight blue Ford truck with a step-side body and big wheels. He special ordered that truck and loved it. So did all the teenage boys in the neighborhood. That being the case, I was bound and determined I was going to be driving that coveted truck around town as soon as I got my drivers license.

I must mention that this truck with the big wheels didn’t have power steering…oh and it wasn’t an automatic?

Well it didn’t take long (just one missed power pole) for daddy to spew a few words he rarely used in front of his little girl and to declare I was not going to drive his truck again. Ever. And that was the end of my truck driving days…until I met a fella in high school with an automatic…*G*…but that’s a saga unto itself.

I guess I could blame Daddy for not knowing how to drive a stick shift but a little Fierro and smitten fella couldn’t teach me either (he just buys me automatics when it’s time to trade now)…but that’s another story.

Well it only took Daddy two and half decades to change his mind about me driving another one of his trucks. (That’s not to say that I didn’t drive his cars every chance I got…*G*).

When I got in town Friday, Daddy let me borrow his big black truck. He washed it, filled it with gas and I was off to Daytona. Of course the first day I was in heels so it was a bit tricky getting back in swing of driving a truck again. But I found a station that mixed the ol’ twangy country with some of the latest hits and before you know it I was singing along with music was blaring and lovin’ life.

I don’t know what it is about a big truck but it brings out the little boy in every guy. When I slid out of the truck at the hotel, I told the kid to be careful with it cause it was my Daddy’s truck. “Yes ma’am, it’s a nice truck too,” and with a glazed look in his eyes he climbs up in the truck and takes off. I was thinking, better you than me. I knew there was no way I could get that monster in and out of a parking spot. I’m use to scooting around in a Matrix, no way did I want to try parking an extended bed truck on stilts.

So life was great, I was cruising right along in Daddy’s truck without a worry in the world. I picked Sue up from the airport on Sunday. Sue being 5.1 had a bit of trouble climbing in but soon we were off laughing and chatting…and circling the airport a couple of times. They lost one of her bags but called before we left the airport so life again was back on track and looking great.

We got back to the hotel to drop off Sue’s stuff and pick up Dobby. The three of us were planning on going to Daddy’s for dinner. Life is fabulous. I’m reunited with my best friends and we’re laughing and having fun.

Then I walk out of Sue’s room (which is right next to mine) and the bottom drops out of my perfect world.

Yes folks this is where the self-confident 42 year old woman falls victim to “Oh Shit Daddy’s Gonna Kill Me” syndrome. You remember that syndrome, it happens to most teenagers once (or more) in our young impressionable lives.

A security guard is standing at my door…my first thought…I haven’t been her long enough to have security after me.

Let me back up and explain about this security guard. The words Security Guard bring to mind big strapping man with a gun. Well in my case I ended up with a kid that looks like a stiff wind would blow him over. And instead of having a commanding voice he sounded kinda whiny.

Ok, so I’m a bit nervous cause I knew I didn’t do anything that warranted a security guard (I hadn’t even had my first drink yet *g*).

He starts out…

“Ms. J, do you own a black Ram 2500?”

…here’s where the sinking feeling of the “Oh Shit Daddy’s Gonna Kill Me” syndrome kicks in…

”It’s my daddy’s truck”

”Well there’s been an accident, a pipe fell on it”

…now I can no longer hear what he is saying because I’m visualizing that insurance commercial where the couple is ice skating and he hits a shed and says…”I’m fine”…then a sheet of ice falls on the car parked next to the shed totaling the car.

My first words to the security kid with the quivering voice…”you’re telling daddy I had nothing to do with it”

I thought the kid was going to faint. You see, I come across as a strong, out going, nothing bothers me…and my daddy drives a monster truck so he must be a real bruiser if I’m afraid to tell him…*g*.

“Ms. J, I promise we’ll pay for the repairs”…now the brain is starting to kick in again.

“You mean it can be fixed?”

“Oh yes, Ms. J. It only scratched the roof”

…the heart starts beating again…

”So it’s not totaled or anything?”…

”Oh no ma’am, it’s just got a scratch on the top of the roof, I don’t think it even dented it.”

*Rolling eyes*…”Well why didn’t you say that in the beginning?”

So a quick phone call to Daddy (where scaredy-kid explained what happened) and a few forms later, Sue, Dobby and I were off to Daddy’s for dinner.

I will say Daddy’s reaction was the old ‘as long as you’re ok, it’s fine’…well then he added why couldn’t it have been totaled, then he could get a new one…*g*…will wonders ever cease?

But he was standing in the bed of the truck with a neighbor looking over at the scratch on the roof of his truck when the three of us came out to leave…*G*.

Daddy has really mellowed in a few decades…but he will always be my daddy so I’ll always be plagued with the “OSDGKM” syndrome no matter what…*ggg*.