Okay I went to Church today. It’s nice to go to a LDS Ward that has at least more than a mere few of eye candy. Hot legs, and sweet drumsticks, rather than some of the thunder thighs and grizzly bear mamas than I have seen recently. Plus a genuine reach out and Shake my hand attitude, instead of the smug, spoon up their nose anal attitude that I have experienced here. Not that you should go to Church looking for a date or romance, but I even heard one speaker today, making the pitch to a returned Missionary mating him up with his returning daughter Missionary. I have always felt that under that roof respect and honoring the statutes of what that building means is always or should be first, and all things other, should be left outside. Example; had a meet and greet meeting with my new Bishop last week. While I was waiting two other people seeking help from the Church, One while waiting had to go outside for a smoke and smelled like it when he came in , that’s bad enough. And while I also put Skoal between cheek and Gum, still I get rid of it LONG before I go in the building. Yet last week here’s some guy who wore a big coat, and was spitting in a bottle while waiting to see the Bishop. This was very upsetting to me, but I held my tongue. But at least the Ward I’m in now has more sweet legs rather than thunderthighs.
You got to LuV your truck. If you’re a rode warrior like I am, that truck provides not only the way you make a living, but really your shelter and becomes a companion. To you that truck is more than rolling steel, its your baby. You like I, have more than likely gave your truck, a name, and its part of your family, not just a beast of Burdon. It’s a given that most, not all, but most women do not feel that way about trucks. Most women are into Jeep’s, SUV’s, and the like, us guys, LuV trucks our pickups to our tow trucks, long haulers, and even Hot Shot trucks, We just got to love your truck. Sadly the children or young people of today will never be able to share that love of trucks, love of life on the road, the old truck stops, that were just that, TRUCK STOPS, not travel plazas. Where there was a café and a shower, not some mass market sandwich shop and a timed shower, that barely is hot enough to dissolve the smells of arm pits or diesel fuel. What do we do about that? That in an upcoming entry.