My Big Red Truck

I am in a complete state of awe right now, because today, I walked away from my big Victory red 2003 Chevy Avalanche; passing the keys on to the new owner. Wow. She's gone. We had a six year relationship and now she's gone.

Big Red was my key to independence....something I hadn't had in a long time. I was newly separated, settling in to a little house on the corner (shivering 'cause it was sooo damn cold in there) and driving my parent's borscht-mobile. It was on its last legs and I was feeling kind of desperate. (When I was selling that car for $500 I actually added a clip art photo to the sale poster of an old lady in a babooshka saying, "It's cheap like borscht!") So, I kind of had a running mantra in my head, "When I get my shit together, I am going to buy myself a big, sexy, red truck". I NEEDED a truck. Seriously. Do you know what kind of woman I am? One that likes to haul ass into the bush and tromp around a bit. (Not too much though, 'cause I'm afraid of bears.) I'm not into mud slinging, but I like to know that if I go down a dirt road, I'm going to get out again. The call came, a truck was available and my dad and I headed down the highway to Dryden to see my future partner in crime. I remember when I saw it my thought was, "Well, isn't that ironic. It's actually a big, sexy, red truck. Fuck ya." Sold.

 The trips started instantaneously. Suddenly Harriet and I could fill the whole back of the truck with stuff from the dump (which simultaneously meant that my house was getting furnished and Christmas gifts were being given). Deanna and I were loadin' the kiddos in and going on picnic adventures by beautiful streams, blueberries were being discovered down secret roads that nobody else has ever been to before, (I'm sure of it....haha), rock after rock was slung into the back to be potentially cemented into my yard, Christmas trees were being cut, then lost, then mourned. Sod, dog poop, art work, artifacts, children....you name it, I had it in the back of that truck and it helped turn intentions into realities.

And don't even get me started on the romantic opportunities that my truck has provided me. Ok, get me started.....if it wasn't for the Chevy Avalanche I wouldn't have had the confidence to drive by myself to the boonies of Northern Michigan, sicker than a dog and sleep deprived, (thank you Lewis the kitty cat for bouncing on my face all night for your sheer entertainment when I had an epic journey ahead of me the next day) to see a man that I was sure I was totally in love with. And I certainly left Northern Michigan in love or as close to it as I would dare myself to be, but was relieved that my Chevy wheels would spin out of that creepy little town where phones seemed to be obsolete and a strange man knocked on my cobwebbed hotel door and asked, "So....do you like to drink?"

If it wasn't for my red truck, I wouldn't have had the experience of being a passenger with my mud caked feet sticking out the window, fresh from a fantastic music and camping experience at the Winnipeg Folk Fest with a long lost boyfriend. Twelve absent years of confusion were laid to rest through conversation in that Chevy. 

 And how else would it have been possible to take a fine, foreign musician down Nungessor Road at midnight to watch a moose graze by a stream under a full moon while we lean against the truck, kissing and living in the bliss of being? My big red truck was immortalized in poetry after that night. I smiled every time I got behind the wheel.

And that truck of awesomeness saved my life a couple times, and perhaps the lives of others. This is when I realized the sheer power of the automatic safety features that kicked in to play on black ice. I remember feeling the pull of the vehicle and thinking "Oh shit...here we go," which then turned into a "Huh?" (but say it really drawled out and Scooby-Doo-ish)  and ended with a, "Did you feel that? It's like we're in a hovercraft!" My friend and I hallelujah-ed all the way down that icy highway, thankful for technology and our lives.A couple of summers ago, I hit a weird patch of water that send the truck on an autopilot struggle that left me completely helpless and submissive again to the power of automation, and once again in front of a gaggle of cross country skiing students that were also thankful for automation. Good thing they were all kids from the Catholic school or God knows what would have happened....

And in that whole time that I owned Big Red, only one catapulting partridge lost it's life to my grill. But I can't say the same for my friend's minivan and a post at Blue Lake. Hey, I'm left handed and Avalanches are notorious for their blind spots. And why do all of the provincial parks make their camp site indicators "tree trunk brown" and the height of a truck tire? If I was a tyrant, I probably could have sued them for that one. Not bad in the 6 years I had 'er....two dents by me, one dent to me. The woman backed her vehicle out of the grocery store, across two lanes of traffic and straight into my truck door. She forgot that she had a steering wheel and the opportunity to decelerate. It happens some times. My biggest concern was that my dog was in the back seat and it's not cool to mess around with my dog. She could have been hurt.

So, when it came to starting to toy with the idea of selling the Avalanche, I was really apprehensive to do so. Yeah, it's a big truck and I really don't need that BIG of a truck, but man....I have personified that baby. I really loved Big Red.To kind of get off topic here for a minute, I remember coaching high school boys soccer a few years back and there was a big tough kid on the team that had a tendency to get yellow carded all of the time and I was watching him and he honestly wasn't being aggressive on the pitch. He just had the luck of being a big guy and he stood out in the crowd. So I started calling him "Avalanche" and I explained to him that my truck was the same way. Big, red, flashy trucks just scream for attention, and if you go one kilometer (or maybe two or three) over the speed limit, you are being called on your actions. You just simply stand out in the crowd so you live with the stereotype. I see him everyone once in a while around town when he comes home from university or where ever he is now, and the first thought that crosses my mind is "Avalanche". 

Big Red's next destination is up to a small community North of here. I was teasing the guy that bought it, saying he's going to be stacking it with moose, but only if his wife ever lets him drive it. He said he's going to be hauling a lot of wood in it. He also said that he comes up to Red Lake quite often so I'm sure over the years I'm going to see Big Red parked at the restaurant or grocery store, getting loaded up with supplies to take back home to their community. She's going to continue to serve her purpose, and I hope that she continues to nurture sleeping children in back seats, initiate crazy sing-a-thons with girlfriends, instigate city shopping expeditions to Costco for oversized boxes of cereal, make strangers turn their heads and whistle and fill up their life with excitement and joy like Big Red has done for me.

On to the next adventure. I'm going to have a beer in honour of Big Red and if you've ever had a heck of a good time with us in the Avalanche, maybe you'll want to put your glass up in a toast as well. Cheers!