The punchline being my truck is so undesirable, no one would steal it or its contents. But since then, my truck has received an unwarranted quantity of negative attention from many of my associates.
Me: Since we're visiting my parents, we'll take my truck." (out of fairness of gas money)
Fiance: *groans*
Me: ... Fine, we'll take your car...
Fiance responds with girlish squeak of glee.
One of my old high school buddies returned from the south for the first time in 6 years. We were helping another buddy move. I was looking for help later as I needed someone to drive the truck, as was trying to buy another car that night. Most of my friends, and fiance, cannot drive a stick well or at all, so I had to ask, prepping to hint towards a favor...
Me: You can drive a stick, right?
Bud: Yeah, all my cars were sticks, my mustang, my subaru...
I shift into 3rd gear as he's talking. There is a little resistance and a tiny jerk.
Bud: ... buuut I'm not so sure I could drive this thing.
Me: What are you saying? (jokingly)
Bud: I'm just sayin'.
The next week, I'm parking at work. A high-ranking company officer awaits as I struggle to back into a compact spot. There's some grinding, and what I would call, PUT-PUT-PUT.
Guy: That's a nice beater truck you got there.
Me: Gee, thanks...
I also work with my best friend. So I tempt fate as I lock up.
Me: My truck's not so bad, right?
He surveys the truck and looks back to me.
Him: I like your canopy.
Even complete strangers are getting in on the fun.
I go to Arco to pump some gas and my buddy gets out to buy a Monster and some peanuts. Of course he slams the door into the gigantic yellow concrete post.
Me: Hey, easy man!
Bud: Sorry sorry it's cool, there's no dent.
Suddenly a fruity soccer mom pumping her Lexus pops out from the pay station.
Lady: Yeah, you wouldn't notice a new dent on that thing anyways!
They both start laughing.
Funny lady. At least my car is paid for. Enjoy your Lexus, though!
The kicker was today at Jiffy Lube. The manager was a eighteen year-old, baby-faced bright eyed child. There wasn't a whisker on his face. His carhart jacket looked two sizes too big, and his eyes were bright, as if he hasn't lived long enough for the world to crush his spirit... yet. He was overly customer-service oriented. You know the type. Held doors for everyone. Had a certain phony pep in his voice. Straight out of his mother's womb.
After the oil change, they tried to get it out of the garage. It stalled quite quickly. He didn't immediately understand the elaborate combination of number of turnovers, timing, and when and how hard to pump the accelerator to get bring my truck to life. He tries again. The truck sputters and hacks, but she is awakened, and he pulls forward. He returns to bill me. First thing out of his mouth:
Boy: Wow, that seems like a really fun truck to drive!
Such an unfortunate and insincere inflection, with a big smile. Like how small house is "cozy," Driving my truck is like... an adventure!
I've had a hell of a day. My only response this time was a blank stare. There's a strong pause. His eyes start to shift and he begins to panic slightly.
Boy: Uhhhh *ahem* Okay, so your total is...
I don't care if the body is ugly, it's loud as fuck, and that the total recommended repairs are easily double its value: it starts, stops, runs every time and is the most reliable vehicle I have ever owned. It may not be the most satisfying material possession (she does toy with my heart), but the amount of jest towards it makes me almost more proud of it. That baby will outlive most of their vehicles, if only out of spite. She is a vengeful vehicle. And possibly immortal.