and the sun also rises...

if i may be so bold, let me paraphrase the words of a song by lubbock's own mac davis. happiness is mcgavock nissan in my side view mirror. the anxious anticipation working on my mind of late has been set aside. the delivery of my frontier from the truck hospital on the 45th day of it's extended stay there was, in a word-- anticlimactic. after all the angst, the hand wringing, the snot slinging and tears, there was nothing. there was no band to play a fanfare, no fireworks arcing toward explosion in the clear blue sky, no tinsel or streamers--nothing. no celebration at all was in evidence in the bsa parking lot. nothing but a quickening in the pulse of my eeky-leaky heart marked my frontier's return. the driver collected the p.o.s. dodge intrepid and was gone without a word. with his leaving, the frontier and i were alone together for the first time in many days. with st. christopher resting close to my heart, i placed my right hand on the frontier and in prayer asked

our patron, st. christopher to begin his watching over us-- me and my truck. after so many days apart the truck seems a stranger to me. is it because the new, good and true heart has not connected with mine? stranger or no, i am elated to be seated behind the wheel at last. listening to the calm purr of the recently resuscitated engine, working my way through the gears on a quick tour of the parking lot, brought a warmth to my innards and plastered a sh** eatin' grin on my ugly country mug. as this sad saga draws to a close, as i walk west toward the frontier, i look over my shoulder at mcgavock's and think out loud, "you can kiss my rosy red ass". as for us, the frontier and i are looking for better days. and with that, i'm out.