Meat Truck (Bright Year: Day 50)

It was very used vehicle and a very stale post listing it on Craigslist. Upon inspection, I realized that it was one of those post-prime masculine shrine trucks. You know: premium CD player, custom lights (half of them working), tool box (itself repaired), a million miles. I had my doubts, so I offered a pretty modest amount. The seller, who was clearly one of those good souls whom God gives a very strict limit on how many words he may to use each day, had a long pause, then counteroffered $100 higher and offered to throw in a box of meat. Naturally, I agreed. When a man puts beef on the table, you best shake hands and call it good.

My friends have begun calling it my “meat truck.” Funny how the things that make up the difference can become the heart of the thing itself.