Jogging and Frankentruck

Yesterday, I decided there was nothing to stop me from jogging 5 miles. Of course, today there is. My butt might fall off, and how is that going to look in the emergency room.

Me to Triage Nurse: “Oh, I jogged 5 miles yesterday. Who would a guessed that was going to kick my ass so hard my butt wants to abandon ship.”

Before the 5 miles of delayed discontentment, my brother called me. He’s the proud owner of a 1987 Dodge Dakota. It’s a two-tone mid-sized pick-up with a nice radio, a cruise control and horn that don’t work and air conditioning that’s been removed. The horn is the only thing that’s a necessity in my brother’s world. and I’m sure he’ll get that working or replace it. He said the body and the interior are “purty” and unlike Frankentruck, it doesn’t reek of gas and the neighbors can’t hear him coming.

“What does Frankentruck think about all this?” I asked.

“What’d mean?” he responded.

“I mean how is Frankentruck taking the addition of a new mechanical brother,” I said.

My brother said, “I traded it.” It never occurred to me that my brother could disown his mechanical son. “Got $500 for him,” he said.

There was a pregnant pause as the gears in my head spun around, and I questioned if my brother’s reality was my reality because in my reality my brother would have to pay someone to take Frankentruck away – on a tow truck.

“And I told the salesman the fly wheel was broken along with the torque converter, and it was probably taking the transmission out,” he said.

“Then you paid him $500 to take Frankentruck to the dump,” I said.

“Naw. I already told you. He paid me,” he said.

“How did you even get to the dealer’s lot?” I said.

“Very carefully,” my brother responded.

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4 Responses to “Jogging and Frankentruck”

  1. worldphotos Says:

    Sounds like your Bro got a pretty good deal.

    • I think he did. He didn’t pay too much for the used truck and Frankentruck was dying, repeatedly.

  2. I know that ass falling off feeling, I got it when we had a power failure in the high-rise building I worked in, I had to haul my butt down 22 stories in high heels, my legs were alright the next day, but boy did by butt hurt!

    As for your brothers trading in Frankentruck, good job!

  3. Oooh, 22 stories in high heels. No can do. I never was heel friendly.

    Thanks for the atta-boy for my bro.

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