Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to put the first few miles on a brand new pickup?

Ed had made the transaction and the dealership was waiting for his trade with the new truck’s keys all shined up and ready to hand over. Dang, a little harvest problem had gotten in his way and I was asked to make the trip. Aw shucks, there was gardening to do and critters to take care of, but I supposed the time could be arranged to mosey on down the road to collect up his new pickup. I thought the hand-on-the-Bible thing was a bit much but Ed insisted, and I swore to bring the new truck home in showroom condition.

Brandy! Drop whatever you’re doing and grab your wallet! We’re going on a road trip to pick up Ed’s new truck and there’s a great new western store right down the block from the dealership!

In no time at all, Brandy and I were listening to the long version of “Ride, Cowboy, Ride” while bouncing down the highway in Ed’s old truck. There was friendly silence for a while as we both wondered if the dealership had actually seen the replacement trade that was on the way, but we figured it was a done deal as Ed never, ever sent me on one of his buying trips, least of all for a new truck.

The disgusted looks from fellow travelers at the rest stop made both Brandy and me a little uncomfortable, but as we filled the smoking radiator with water, we snickered, knowing the return trip to the same stop would bring stares of admiration and awe when we climbed out of the sassy new truck for a sassy little sip of water from the fountain.

The suit-and-tie fellow hurried out of the dealership with a fire extinguisher as we pulled up, but when handed the paperwork, he wiped his forehead with a neatly folded, white hankie and motioned a lot worker to place the bubbling truck “way out back.” There was friendly silence between Brandy and me as the worker pushed the old pickup around the corner and we bid farewell.

Holy cow, the amazing new truck had working air conditioning and double cup holders, and the words to our “Ride, Cowboy, Ride” CD sang out clear as a bell! Just one sonata later, we pulled up to the new western-wear store, ready for some heavy-duty shopping. I suggested to Brandy that it might be a good idea to wrap some tape around the metal stirrups of her newly purchased saddle before she tossed it in the pickup box, but, oh no, she was in a hurry to get back in the store for our two boxes of boots.

There was friendly silence for a while as we covered the scratch with mascara.

The Taco John’s order was delayed a bit as the voice on the other side of the microphone asked us to roll up our lariats and turn the volume down. Thinking the young fellow at the ordering window was a little too big for his britches and needed a lesson in proper pickup music, I handed Brandy her soda as the attendant and I had a little stare-down. Brandy’s eyes were fixed on her new saddle in the pickup box and down went the soda, soaking the center console and most of the seat. Asking for extra napkins and receiving an “I told you so” gaze from the Proactive-wearing server, we wiped up the stains as best we could in a bit of friendly silence.

I’m sure the bird “had to go,” but he sure didn’t have to go that much, as the whole side of the shiny new, black truck was streaked in white while we rolled down the freeway. Brandy’s extra-hot-sauce container spilled all over the floor as she leaned out the window, telling me how much bird poop was on the right-hand side of the box. We drove in friendly silence for a while.

Pulling into the rest stop for what was supposed to be our “hey, look at us now!” return, I grabbed the hose from the hydrant and Brandy removed the plastic from around my new curry brush to clean off the truck. Awhile later, in friendly silence we both read the brush’s label stating it contained fifty percent steel.

Taking a short cut home to see a friend’s new foal crop in the pasture, the “No winter maintenance” sign should have also stated, “No summer driving after rain.” After walking to our friend’s house to borrow a tractor, there was no way to get back in the pickup without spreading the entire interior with mud. After a little silence, we both perked up as the mud covered the little swirly brush scratches along the entire box side.

Ready to wear new boots, brush our horses, and try out the new saddle, we turned up the ol’ “Ride, Cowboy, Ride” music for a little sing-along the last few miles. We knew the jackrabbit didn’t mean to jump out in front of the truck and try to outrun us, but the little bugger could have slowed down a bit instead of kicking up rocks at the windshield. After some friendly silence, both Brandy and I agreed the big crack resembled a horse’s eye and the little ones were similar to Charlotte’s web-home.

Ed stood in total silence as we crawled out of his new pickup, loudly singing, “Run, Cowgirls, Run,” and hightailing it for the barn…