I wonder if there is a secret truck hierarchy I know nothing about. I thought about this today as a truck bigger than mine, working for some company, drove by me. I was behind another car going slowly but was content enough not to pass it and my exit was coming up.
When the truck passed me the driver didn’t give me a look like he was mad at the slow pokes in the right lane. He looked disappointed in me. I wondered if I had some responsibility to him as a fellow truck driver. And since my truck is always the smallest on the road, I’d always be at the bottom of the totem pole.
I don’t really like driving a truck. Mine is 15 years old and instead of power steering it has power assisted steering. I hate backing up and I am not the type of person that should drive a white car, or I should start caring about cleaning it. The trucks name is Louise because at one point my father had a label maker for his job and I labeled everything. I didn’t even notice it was still there until I gave a friend a ride and she asked who Louise was.
I do like the looks I get from other truck drivers, or any drivers, who spot a girl that looks like she could have just got her learners permit driving a small, but I guess still manly, truck. Some people try to hit on me when they see me driving, which is not very effective but they wink or roll down the window. I drive faster in those cases. But the shocked faces, I like those.
Today’s aspiration: I’ve been wanting to learn how to salsa dance for a while, so I’m going to look into that further today.