R-E-S-P-E-C-T

The past few weeks, I've been driving a friend's ancient Ford F-150 truck.

Its speedometer has rolled over the max mileage at least once; because if this four-wheel banger and belcher has only 16,000 miles on it, well, I'm Donald Trump's best buddy and heir apparent.

My friend is an Ironworker.  He's about 6'7....and you wouldn't want to fool with him.  Nice guy, or no nice guy.

His talents as an Ironworker, and all round handyman, are also evident with the truck.  He's welded patches, here and there, like a quilt across the truck's body -- giving it an electic, but also, 'don't screw with me' look.

So, here I am.... 5'6" on a good day, driving this big, semibad a*s truck.

Now the wife or girlfriend might pat you on the head or rub your shoulder, as you sit on the edge of the bed in the morning, and reflect "Oh, sweetie.  If it was good for you, it was good for me.  You know SIZE doesn't matter."

But let me tell you.

Truck size matters on the road.

And I like the feeling.

All the AngerManagement Class flunkees STAY out of the way, far away from F-150 BlackTruck. 

No turning in front of it or me. 

No honking when I sit thru a yellow light.

No tail gating when I go 35 in a 35 zone.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

I may be a truck guy, after all.