#TBT: Metal Dump Trucks

I’ve decided to spice this thing up a bit with a little #tbt action… you know… get with the times.  I’m old.  And I only started blogging a few years ago.  There’s obviously been a lot of weird blog-worthy crap that’s happened in the tens of years before I started my original blog (which is now set to *private for annoying, career-related reasons).   So in an effort to throw the normal “chronological order” type of blog out the window, I’ve decided to do throw-back Thursdays (I’m super hip).

This week I’ll stay relatively current.   If you knew me at all, you’d know I pull my phone out and document quote-worthy situations in my iPhone’s notes, any time I feel like something happens that I don’t want to forget.  And I forget a lot…Because my brain is full of useless information and conversations… And I’m old… as I may or may not have mentioned.

As I was scrolling through my notes recently, I found a conversation that took place during my road trip from New York to California this summer.  If you’ve ever driven cross-country with anyone, you’d know that normal conversation eventually runs out.  My sister and I didn’t have normal conversation to begin with, because that ran dry years ago.  We started with a blank slate, and the weirdness followed.  It was past the cities we set out to stop in… past Nashville…past Santa Fe.  It was in the Middle.Of.Nowhere.U.S.A.   We kept seeing these huge trucks… they looked like dump trucks except with metallic bodies.

Carissa says, “What’s IN those?!?  I’ll bet it’s milk.”

I agree.  “Yeah, probably milk.”

We keep seeing them.  Over and over again.  It was really bugging us.  Carissa’s driving, and I’m falling in and out of sleep.  More OUT of sleep, because she is the worst driver in the history of the planet and every time I shut my eyes, I feel the car swerve and think I’m going to die.

I forced my eyes open and saw another metal truck.  This time I noticed a name on the cab.  I googled it.  There were a lot of things that came up with that name so I googled the name along with “metal truck.”  I finally found something that might be relevant.  Carissa told me to call.  I called…. on speaker phone.  A woman answered.

“Hello.  I was just wondering what’s in your big silver trucks.  Is it milk?”

Hesitation… She had obviously never fielded this type of phone call:  “No… it’s dried goods.”

Carissa, overhearing from the driver’s seat whispers to me… “Like wine?”

I’m not sure why I listened to her on that one, but I ask the woman on the phone, “Like wine?”

The woman answers, “No… things that are dry.”

I say, “Ok, bye.”

I promptly hang up, annoyed.  Carissa says, “Liar.”

I concur. “Liar.”

And the drive goes on.  And we continue to bitch about what a liar that woman was, and how we know it was actually milk in those trucks…because we have nothing else to bitch about.  And because we have a thousand miles left to go.  And because we know that as amazing as it will be to arrive at our final destination, every weird thing we do along that trip west will be forever engrained into our minds.  And there were a million more of those weird moments we will continue to laugh about… with ourselves… because most of them probably aren’t even the least bit funny when you’re not delirious and high on sugar-free Red Bull.

But until next time…


Gossip Girl


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