New era

People say a trip down Route 66 will change you forever. Even after chucking my plans and trading my apartment in St. Louis for a motel in rural New Mexico, I’m not sure I believed I’d really changed … until today.

This afternoon, for what may have been the first time in my life, I did something for entirely practical reasons.

This afternoon, I bought a truck — a big, noisy pickup truck with three on the tree and rust spots on the hood and a bad bondo job on one fender and no power steering and no power brakes and no air conditioning and no CD player — and put a “FOR SALE” sign on my Firebird.

I’ll probably cry when somebody buys the Firebird. It was, after all, a college graduation gift from my father, who really wanted to buy me a Corvette but couldn’t afford it. I don’t have my father any more. But I have his music. I have one of his album covers tattooed on my ankle. And I have about 30 yards of worn-out shag carpet to haul out of here before tourist season.

Tonight, I also have a “good-lookin’ old bitch” with a 327 under her hood sitting in my driveway, waiting to help me do anything I’ve got any business doing … and probably several things I haven’t got any business doing as well.

Now all I need is a big, goofy dog to ride shotgun. I think I may have found a good candidate. Squeezed in amongst the ads for farriers, Australian shepherd puppies, rodeos, and septic-tank services, I spotted this flier:

I think a pit bull-German shepherd mix would look just fine in my new truck.

— Sierra



  1. Judy · February 28, 2010

    Hummmm. I knew you’d buy the pick-up truck, Sierra – but somehow, I pictured a Golden Retriever or a Lab in the back. But a Golden probably wouldn’t chase away the guy from the laundry.

  2. tumbleweedmotel · February 28, 2010

    I adore goldens, but I’m afraid that long, thick coat wouldn’t get along well with barbed wire, goatheads, or New Mexico summers.

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