Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Friday, June 23, 2006

Speaking Of Trucks...

One From The Vaults

My friend Connecticut Yankee dropped a comment in my new truck post about his old Ford Ranger pickup. (aka The Blue Streak Of Doom) I gotta tell one of my favorite stories about that old beater.

It's a late 80's-early 90's Ford Ranger "extended cab" pickup truck, which means there's a space behind the front seat about 12" wide that's useful for carting around your dog, providing it never tries to turn around, lest it rupture a gut folding itself in half... Conn Yank had a camper shell on the back, but for the life of me I can't remember more than a handful of times we ever put anything back there. He also had a pretty damn loud stereo in the truck.

This straight white guy was amused by my "manly handling" of Sparky the Flaming Cadillac, but he'd shit a paving stone if he ever rode with Connecticut Yankee in that Ranger. Connecticut Yankee made every effort possible to put that thing up on two wheels every time he rounded a corner. I think he succeeded most times. There were two speeds in that Ranger, Dead Stop and Bat Out Of Hell.

One day in '94, Connecticut Yankee & I needed to go somewhere with the Limey Bastard, and neither LB nor I wanted to ride in the bed for fear of bone fractures and concussions caused by being tossed around. The Limey Bastard volunteered to squeeze himself into the back "seat", where he had to lay flat and on his side just to fit.

Connecticut Yankee takes off, and fires up the new CD he'd just gotten. From the speakers comes the booming sound of Green Day's "Longview". LB's crumpled up in the back, and he's got the speakers pointed right at him. Connecticut Yankee takes a couple of hard left turns, still accelerating. The music's really cranking now, and the truck takes a sharp right doing about 50 mph. We list about 50 degrees to starboard, and the Limey Bastard is just about stood on his head back there. ConnYank & I barely hear over the music some frantic screaming in the back.

Oh, shit. Maybe LB broke his neck. Better check. He lowers the music as I turn around to see if he's still kicking.

"NO!! Turn it back up! I said louder, LOUDER!!!"

Heh. All is well. We crank the music and continue abusing LB for the next 20 miles.