If you asked most women what their favorite type of window-shopping is, I presume they might mention Ralph Laurens entire spring collection or, perhaps, jewelry.

For me, its trucks.

I have been known to nearly drive off the road craning my head around to make a mental note of a burgundy Ford F-250 Crew Cab Lariat 4×4 Power-stroke Diesel (told ya I took a mental note). It makes my eyes water. It makes my heart beat as if Buddy Rich had reared from the grave. However, like the disappointed husband to whom a wife has just shot down the dream of a Corvette, I have to be realistic: my new truck (by new, I mean having been manufactured during the same decade in which I am living), despite my best efforts, will be beat to hell within a matter of months: it must reliably haul a horse trailer, move gravel, manure, and anything that needs to go to the dump. It will not be a show piece, resting comfortably in a climate controlled garage when not in use it will be plugged into the barn when temperatures dip below freezing and it will wear a layer of grime or splattered mud until Im too embarrassed to be seen in public with it and only then will it be taken to the self-serve car wash (having broken the last automatic carwash I drove a dually through).

So I trawl Autotrader on-line and pry my quivering fingers away from clicking the mouse over glistening, loaded, new models with immaculate interiors…because, really, how long does your commitment not to wear muddy boots in your new truck last? Best to look at a truck thats had a past: a truck with the confidence of a retired drill sergeant, a truck that doesnt mind a sticky puddle of coffee sloshing inside the cup holder, the kind of truck thatll pat you on the knee when you climb in and says with a voice eerily reminiscent of Sam Elliott, You just sit tight, missy well get through this thunderstorm.

And when this new-ish truck has, over the years, given his all (I cant fathom calling a truck her) in selfless duty to farmwork, like the others that have gone before him, I will bite my lip, pat his hood and say, Its not you, youve been great. Its me. I just want to see other trucks.

Women can be so cruel.~ I’m Just Saying written by Pam Stone