Little White Truck

Wes and I had just finished spreading around two yards of mulch and despite the ominous skies, it was time for another load.

As hail started pelting our windshield, I remembered driving through another hail storm in this same little white truck.  It was fourteen years earlier and the truck still belonged to Wes's step-dad, Dave.  Wes and I were dating and were on a fantastic road trip across the northwest.

It was while driving through Montana that the almost baseball-sized hail started pounding the windshield.  I had NEVER seen hail that size before!  We navigated the rest of the northwest with a huge crack across the entire windshield.

We were so grateful, when a few years ago, Dave gifted us the little white truck before he moved out of the country.  It's 21 years old now and wrapped up in many more of our family memories.

Kids unloading gravel into our fire pit area.

A rich, organic aroma greeted us as we pulled into the mulch yard.  We parked the truck between several towering mounds of mulch and walked into the small business office.
"Do you think I could throw another 1/2 yard on top of what I did last time?" Wes asked the young woman behind the counter.
"Ummmmmm.....,"  she stalled, "well....it was kind of....mounded when you drove away last time."
Ha!  I would later joke with Wes that she could have said, "Ummmmmmm.......well....your truck is kind of...small." But she didn't.
He went for the extra 1/2 yard anyway and as we drove home on strained u-joints, Wes quipped that REAL MEN don't need big trucks.