The Apaches are Attacking! Send out for Fruit Smoothies!

Yesterday, my fiancee and I spent some time clearing brush at a Catholic retreat where they were installing a beautiful new statue of Mary. Being the rugged sort (my biceps bulging from all the clicking I do with a mouse), I brought my beaten up old 1984 Nissan pickup. The thing has rust holes all over the bed. It used to be red, but years ago I had it painted white by Earl Scheib where they did not remove the original color. Consequently, the white is chipping away all over the place making the thing a hideous beast of a truck.

It's also great for hauling things because you can't possibly scratch or dent it in any way that will make it look worse. Everyone else in the work party showed up in their SUVs and sedans. I had the only truck capable of hauling the brush, wood and rocks we had cleared away. Of course, my trusty pickup and I leaped into action while the others were all doing something else. (I think it was texting each other about which yoga classes they were going to attend or which macrobiotic yogurts were the best.*)

All I could think of at the time was what a difference 130 years makes. Way back then, out in the Old West, you needed to fend off the Apaches and tame the wilderness. I had the kind of mount you'd want when you needed to ride off to Fort Bridger for reinforcements.

This kind of truck would bring back Winchester rifles and redeye whiskey. The SUVs would have brought back Multicultural Sensitivity Trainers and iced mochas.
* - Actually everyone worked very hard. The end result was an absolutely beautiful status lovingly placed in a professionally landscaped setting. Everyone donated their time cheerfully. We even had one of the 11-year-old girls from my soccer team there clearing brush.