When I began talking about perhaps getting rid of my yellow bug and buying an SUV, Bill concurred completely with the idea. Well, at least the part of the idea that included getting rid of the Volkswagen.

“Hon,” he said. “Why don’t we consider buying a truck?”

A truck? Nope, nein, nee, non, nie, nyeht, nao. Not going to happen. I am simply not willing to buy a giant vehicle that prevents people from being able to back up if they park next to it. When Bill moved to Colorado from Chicago, one of the first things he did was buy a pickup truck. He also bought cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, a horse, a horse trailer, spurs and chaps. Leroy Brown became Roy Rogers.

“You had your pickup truck,” I reminded him. “This car will primarily be driven by me, and I’m not truck material.”

He backed off pretty quickly, but couldn’t help but remind me how helpful a truck would be when hauling things. I couldn’t help but remind him that his Big Project days were over and there wouldn’t be a need to haul things.

Guess who was wrong?…..

Yes, my friends. I’d forgotten that he’s building a gate. That’s what it looks like when you squeeze a 10-foot post into a car with a ten-foot clearance. If we put the seat down and rested the front of the posts at an angle on the dashboard, it would fit. It wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact that I went along with him to Lowe’s.

I hate Lowe’s. I hate Home Depot. I hate big box hardware stores. Well, except for spring when they have garden plants. Other than that, I hate big box hardware stores. I’m not anti-hardware. I’m not anti-big box stores. I just am bored silly when he talks me into accompanying him to the hardware store. Just like he is when he accompanies me to a kitchen store.

“Do you want to go with me to Lowe’s?” he asked brightly yesterday, thinking that if he seemed cheerful enough, he could fool me into thinking we would have fun. It would count as his commitment to spend more time with me. Sigh.

“Nope, I sure don’t,” I quickly answered, not fooled in the least. I had been thinking going to a movie and holding hands.

But then the ghost of Rex McLain haunted me. I kid you not. The words were barely out of my mouth when my phone dinged, indicating a text message. Hi! This is Lowe’s. The online item you ordered has arrived. Your husband is going to be so happy, isn’t he? Well, the last part wasn’t added, but it felt like it.

So, I was stuck going to Lowe’s after all. And then he put the 10-foot post onto the cart. I was pretty darn sure that wasn’t going to fit in our brand new Honda CR-V. And I was almost right. We managed to get it in, but the rear door wouldn’t close all the way.

“Not to worry,” he said. “Just drive slowly.”

I drove slowly, and made it about two blocks before the rear door popped completely open. I quickly pulled over, and Bill “McGyver”, using his brilliant engineering mind, managed to figure out a way to get the 10-foot pole into a 10-foot CR-V interior. Put the seat down and let Kris straddle, all the while praying that we weren’t rear-ended which would result in me being impaled.

I wasn’t impaled. We were neither rear-ended, or stopped by the police. Nevertheless, I’m still glad we didn’t buy a pickup truck.

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