Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I *Might* Live with a Redneck

Okie-dokie, peeps.  Put your thick skin on for a moment.  

Remember that I have lived in Alabama, Tennessee, Florida, and Texas and genuinely appreciated and loved each place.  I consider myself a Southern girl.  Born in Knoxville, Tennessee in Fort Sanders.  I say fixin' and y'all and figure.  I have been known to use the expression "full of piss and vinegar."  I put my groceries in a buggy.  I know how it feels to be "full as a tick".  I would consider it a GRAVE insult if someone called me a Yankee. I know the words to "Rocky Top" and "Dixie".  I always have pimiento cheese in my fridge, and sometimes, I even make it myself.  I truly like RC Cola and everything with bubbles is a Coke to me.  Even an RC.

I have vacationed mostly by choice in the Carolinas, Arkansas, Georgia, Mississippi, Louisiana, West Virginia, Virginia, and Kentucky.  Beautiful and unique sights, sounds, customs, and culinary delights abound in each of these.  I have sites I want to return to in each of these states.  The mist hanging over the Smoky Mountains.  Absolutely breathtaking.  Haunting.  It's been far too long...    

I can do without a return ticket to Opp, Alabama though.  Teenage girls bring a roll of toliet paper in the truck with them when they go out for a ride with their boyfriends.  "Considerate" boys keep a spare, so the girls don't have to tote the Charmin.  Talk about true romance.  I would hand boy and girl a sign...   But even Opp has some charm. And a huge amount of Kudzu...

I'm going off on one of my tangents though...

Thanks for hanging on.  Here's the real point of this post. 

Mr. Incredible is in the midst of a job change.  It means good things for our family.  A nice raise is always a good thing, isn't it?  Company stability is desirable.  A Northern boss who doesn't drop the F-word in meetings with true Southern gentlemen or while he is on Sync with your kids in the car will be refreshing.  Mr. Incredible has four more days to wrap up with the current company, and on Monday he moves over to the new place.  Very similar job, same industry, different products. 

No company car.

Now, we have had a company car for nearly twelve years.  New car every year or two.  All maintenance taken care of and paid for at the expense of the company. 

really like having a company car.  Mainly because I am a girl who resents car payments.  And a girl who sees cars as a means of transporation, not an indicator of who I am or what I am worth.  Mr. Incredible and I had about two years worth of car payments early in our marriage, and I coudn't stand it.  I made double and triple and extra payments until it was paid off, but we were double income then and could afford to do so.  Even still, we didn't eat much in those two years...       

And now we have to go buy a vehicle.

And not just any vehicle.

Something presentable.

Something that carries the weight and presence of "success".

No hooptie.

No beaters.

Nothing used.

A brand, spanking new car.

With a price tag that makes me sweat.


And then some.

And since we live in Texas, it's gotta be a truck.  Because in Mr. Incredible's industry if you show up in say, a Jeep Liberty or a sedan, you are basically telling the boys club that you are a "girly man" and that they should not buy from you.  He would hear comments like, "Do you wanna park your car in the bed of my truck?" or "Is your truck in the shop because I see you are driving your wife's car again."  It's good-natured ribbing and all, but in business (unlike the carpool line), the vehicle does matter.  Yo, you gotta represent.  4 real.  Fo-sho.  I'm not playin'.  Word.

And I want him to sell well.  Better than well.  Mama wants her raise, too.  There are places to go, people to see, heels that need rocking, Wicked Skatewear with my name on it...

So, I have had to read no less than one hundred invoices that he has pulled up.  That is not a typo or an overestimation.  He's obsessive.  He researches night and day and then some more.  He adds on another option, and I see dollar signs.  He ups the size of the rims, and I see my '57 convertible drive off with strangers in it.  And then, if it's deemed worthy, we have to go see it in person...  And that takes ALL FREAKIN' DAY. 

And you gotta play nice with Mr. Slick.  Vomit.  I hate that.  Especially since we get A plan pricing thanks to my most magnificent, talented, intelligent bro-in-law who is a mechanical engineer for Ford in Dearborn.  He designed the cam shafts and pulleys and other thingys in the F-150 engine.  Yes, you are the man.  You rock.  I am in awe of you.  Is that enough kissing up yet?  Let me know if I need to do more. 

I say just buy the $%*&^ truck already. 

It's easy.  Red.  Tan leather.  Air-conditioned seats.  Back-up camera.  Chrome package.  Side step.  Under this price.


Please don't misunderstand me.  I love a man in a truck.  Truly, my first choice for so many reasons that I won't get into right now.  But even though trucks are the state car of Texas, I don't want anyone to hand me a sign.   Three people have already tried to hand this sign to me this week.  And Mr. Incredible took the sign and asked if I minded if he installed a gun rack in the truck he hasn't even bought yet.  Now I'm wondering if there is a noodling trip or deer lease payment in my future.  Or Wranglers...

They law!  Lord, help.  



  1. This has to be one of my most favorite of your posts. ; )

  2. China Grove. That's all I'm saying... ;)