I really love my truck. Some would even label me a truck maniac, but when they do, I take it as a compliment. I got my Ford F150 for my 21st birthday, and from that point on we were inseparable. I did everything in that truck. I mean everything. If I ever get married, I want to somehow contrive to have the ceremony in the truck. But I doubt I'll meet a chick who understands me, so I'm having my lawyer work on a way for me to legally marry the truck. But once, there was a time when I thought we would be separated forever....
On my 22nd birthday, my friend Mike convinced me to go to Tijuana. I had lived in San Diego for a time, but I never had the courage to venture across the border. He told me it was the promised land for those with dollars. He painted vivid pictures involving nonstop partying, giant burritos and Coronas aplenty. Needless to say, I was sold. We piled into my Ford and we were off.
In a surprisingly short amount of time we reached the border. Mike suggested that we park on the US side and then walk across. But I would have none of it. The thought of being in a different country than my beloved was unthinkable. He reluctantly agreed, and we slowly drove through the checkpoint. Crossing the border was pretty uneventful, but when we reached the other side, I was shocked. The difference between the US and Tijuana was extreme. It was much dirtier and slum-like in Mexico, and yet there was a charm to the place. We parked by the side of the road and started to wander. I bought some turquoise rings that I didn't need and then began to consider buying a pet monkey, or perhaps a burro. I walked a little more past various vendors and then took a turn into an alley. All of a sudden I noticed I was being followed by a scantily clad Mexican woman. She approached me and suggested we go somewhere private.
I started to laugh. "Senorita please. There's no way you can tempt me. Look at what I have waiting for me." I pulled out my wallet and began to show off photos of my shiny metal lady. She seemed very interested in the photos, asking Ford related questions in broken English. Then, all of a sudden, a street urchin appeared. He ran towards me, and with one flying kick to the nards, laid me low. The woman grabbed my wallet and she and the urchin jumped on a motorbike and raced away.
When I recovered, I staggered around until I found Mike. When he heard my story, he was concerned and suggested we jet. We walked back to our starting point and I stopped in shock. Worse than any kick to the groin was the site which confronted me. My truck was gone! An unearthly shriek issued from my mouth and I fell to the ground unconscious. When I came to, I looked around groggily wondering what had happened. I suddenly realized I was riding in vehicle and Mike was driving. "What happened-, I began, then I realized we were riding in my truck!
"What happened?" I asked. "How did you get it back?"
Mike told me that he had found a shady Mexican dealer who offered to give the truck back in exchange for five hundred US dollars. "By the way man, you owe me $500."
So I lost some cash and didn't buy a burro, but at least I had regained all that mattered to me. The wedding is in June!
To celebrate, I am going to buy a Bed Rug carpeted bed liner and a new Tonneau Cover. My truck deserves it for all she's been through.
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