I drive a pickup truck. I like trucks. Always have– the Dodge line in particular. (A friend of mine who is a volunteer firefighter had a RAM and had nothing but praise for it. I reckon if it’s good enough for him it’s good enough for me.)
The current model is a four-door Dakota, which we bought because we needed someplace to put a carseat (the law frowns upon using bungee cords to hold a child down in the bed.) It’s more car-ish than I’d prefer, but I still like it.
According to the lifestyle article linked above, this makes me the devil (The CEO of Walmart drives an F150)
The Missus drives an Element, which sort of looks like a Humm-vee washed in very hot water. Does that mean she has very small inadequacy issues? Or does she only want to rule the world a little, tiny bit?
Cars are cars, nothing more. You might as well psychoanalyze people based on what kinds of socks they wear. (Hanes work socks, which either means I have delusions of being Michael Jordan’s roadie, or I like the extra cushion in the toe.)
