Duel exhaust, shitty suspension, high winds screaming through the gaps in the window seals. What a ride. I’m still vibrating. It was the longest, loudest, most uncomfortable trip I’ve made back here in a while. Manchild struggled to keep the behemoth on the road and was clearly not enjoying the drive.
He stopped at the gas station in front of my parent’s subdivision to fill up the tank. My entire body was buzzing. I looked at him and said we aren’t doing this again. Taking the truck long distances for no good reason.
He wouldn’t admit it, but I think he realized it was a stupid move. He had an extra 14 hours to travel after that point and was already wiped from the effort it takes to keep the unruly beast between the lines.
He got on the road at about 2pm for the second leg of his trip. He called me at 10 to tell me he dealt with 50mph crosswinds all day and made terrible mileage and wished he would have taken the Golf.
I hate to say I told ya so. Actually, that’s a lie. I love it, and love even more that I don’t even have to say it because he can read my mind.