In gay parlance, I’m not a “car queen.” Motor vehicles do nothing for me. Even the nicest car or truck is simply a means from point A to point B. Recently, however, I’ve been very interested in one particular vehicle.
A bunch of guys rent a house around the corner. A year or so ago, they expanded into a second house which is two doors down from me. All the guys have vehicles, and, from what I see, a vehicle-owning significant other who often spends the night. The street between the two houses often looks like a parking lot.
Judging from the license plates, most of these young men and their women hail from a tiny little county in rural Georgia. Some of the gals drive Jeeps, SUVs and cars, but the guys drive pickup trucks. Not little Ford Rangers, either. Nosirreebob. These trucks are huge.
The biggest is a late-model special edition Chevrolet Silverado. The heavy duty four-door truck has darkly tinted windows, an extra-long bed, and a luggage rack over the four-door cab with a matching grill guard on the front. Fancy wheel covers and giant tires complete the package.
I’m 6’2″, and the hood comes up to my shoulder. No telling what’s under it. Tinted windows prevent me from seeing inside, but I’d guess the cab is equally loaded. Pretty sure I paid less for my first house.
A vanity plate reveals the owner’s first name. We’ll call him Cody. I’ve seen him outside of his truck a few times, but only from a distance. I have no idea what Cody looks like and couldn’t pick him out of a lineup to save my life.
Nonetheless, I have a HUGE crush on him. As I know next to nothing about him, over time, my imagination has filled in the blanks. Consequently, he’s perfect in every way.
Toodles and I pass his house twice every day on our walks. One of these days, Cody will be outside and I’ll get a closer look. Perhaps I’ll even compliment him on his big truck.