Ridin’ Dirty

I sometimes get these snapshots of my life that make me realize just how influenced I have become by the country boy I married.

This for instance…

Is my dream vehicular.

You may be thinking, “damn, our girl has lost her cotton pickin’ mind!” Actually, if you would even think of saying something like that then you would already understand the deep lust I am having over this here Bronco.

Maybe it’s all those years I’ve spent riding in lifted rigs, rock-crawling in trucks andย samurai’s, splashing through endless mud puddles. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve seen them in many movies and often think, “Isn’t that just the cutest thing?”

Yeah, it’s probably that.

I mean really! Couldn’t you just eat it up? Imagine cruising around the lake, on our twisty mountain roads, with the top down and the radio blasting on a warm and sunny day. We are probably on our way to the beach. There is an awesome picnic basket packet with chips, sweet tea and ice pops. True chick lit. consumes us as we are tanning and snacking. And then another awesome ride home in the sweetest vintage Bronco, with a cool breezing cooling us down from a fantastic day of girl beach fun. (Yes, I am including you in this fantasy! Duh! I’m not going alone! And sorry, but it is a chick day only. The Bronco of my dreams is the color of mint ice cream, not manly, and yes it’s on purpose. How else could I keep it from getting trashed by thoughtless boys who want to break her axles on a hard andย treacherous trails!)

You can see I’ve put some thought into this. My fantasy of a summer day like that is not so unreasonable. And sure, we could pile in any old car and have the same fun. Except we wouldn’t look as cool. The feeling of awesome would not be the same. I assure you. I have tried.

So if anyone is looking to buy me a random, large and expensive gift just know I drive stick only! ๐Ÿ™‚

~L

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