For about a month, we’ve been trying
to find a home for a fiberglass truck cap that’s been hanging
around outside since, oh, 2001, leaning up against the house, lending
that Tobacco Road charm to the place. The truck it came with died and
the hope was to transfer it to a replacement vehicle. We paid nearly
300$ to replace the large rear window on the cap, not a week before
fatal transmission failure made that expense moot. I’ve had it on
various websites under FREE and CURB ALERT. So far, no takers and the
weeds are getting tall around it. Good thing we have no HOA here.
I’ve told a couple of people that
Jim’s been close these days. Yesterday proved it for me.
I lolled
about in a housedress until nearly noon, doing as I pleased.
Something, someone said, “Get your shit together and go get the
things you forgot at the store yesterday. Like deodorant, laundry
detergent and a hairbrush. The basics of civilization will escape me
from time to time.
I dressed with whatever was lying
around that was not befrigged with cat cooties, pulled on the
non-favorite sandals instead of hunting down the beloveds. Rather
than wait for the AC, I opened the roof and windows wide and headed
out. Timing was everthing.
I had to wait for a few cars to go by
before I could pull out of the community. When I did, I fell in
behind a small pickup, black, older. As I got closer I could read
that it was a GMC Sonoma, same model, and color as Jim’s. They are
very plain so there was no telling the year.
We sat and waited at the train crossing
for a freight train to rattle through. Twenty-some cars instead of the
usual eighty or ninety and I debated jumping out of my car and
running up to speak to the driver. “Hey, mister, does this old
truck need a matching cap?’ The gate came up and traffic moved out.
I resolved that if he made a right in the direction of the grocery
store, I’d follow and engage.
Just before the intersection, he made
a hard, unsignalled right into a different shopping center and parked.
I followed. I was committed. Or should be.
He wasn’t an armed madman. A younger
Dave Grohl type – dark, hairy and grubby, but I’m sure I gave
him pause when I blocked him in, rolled down my window and
asked what year his truck was. 1998, just like ours. What were
the odds? I felt like Jimmy was in the passenger seat laughing and had to laugh myself.
So I told the kid about the cap, offered it
up for free and gave him the address where he could look it over and
help himself, or not. He was non-committal, probably relieved I
wasn’t the Law.
I tried.
I'll let you know.
It's 5:00pm Sunday. Sad to say, it's still up there.
Guess he decided he didn't need to accessorize.
PS...Craigslist is dead. Long live Facebook Marketplace. The same day as I decided the cap would be headed for the dump, I listed it on FB marketplace. In an hour I had six people interested. Inside another, two nice men with a small truck came, fitted it to said truck and spirited it away to a life of continued service. I'm so happy. They even scrawled a thankyou on the FREE sign.
