Trucks, the bro kind. 

Bro trucks
Bro, your truck, it’s so big. It’s like one of those country singer trucks. 

So I get that some people love big things. In America everything is larger. Supersize meals, triple venti mocha pumpkin spice lattes, 140″ television screens for a 1000 square foot apartment. The list goes on and on. 

It’s not surprising that vehicles seem to constantly grow in size. Larger for most equals safer. Is that always true? Not really, but it doesn’t stop Johny from going over to Bobs big truck outlet and spending three times his yearly income on semi-reliable transportation. At least it looks cool…

Appearances are everything or so I am told. When it comes to trucks, appearances are paramount to good sales. Dodge picked up on that when they initially refreshed their Ram line of pickups. The new look was similar to a mini big rig. Large chrome grill, stepped hood line all that was missing was the vertical smoke stack exhausts. The baby semi truck was born and all other manufacturers rushed to catch up. 
So many different customization styles exist each with a strong following. These days though, they all seem to equally coexist. The one trend which bothers me most…the bro truck. 

What’s a bro truck? Typically it all begins with a small…idea. Yes, we’ll go with a small idea, with large goals. Usually wrought with wasted money and little actual utility added to the truck. Where do I begin? 

Let’s begin with ten inch suspension lifts and 34″ tires on 24″ wheels, chromed at that. Oh, let me clarify, if it’s not a f250 and above or Ram/Chevy 2500 or higher you’re doing it wrong. Next on the list is the led light bar. Like everything else, the bigger the better. The more blinding it is to opposing traffic the better.

Next is a power programmer and deleting a multitude of emissions equipment. Who needs to breath clean air anyways…maybe children? You can’t conquer the urban trails unless you roll more coal than Robert Murray (I’ll wait while you google that name or click here I promise it’s not porn). I get that you want your truck to look like a 1960s 18 wheeler spewing particulate matter like it’s going out of style but, my clean air. 

Don’t get me wrong I love diesel, it can be clean and very economical, but these few examples are making it hard to defend diesel from the Prius driving(always speeding excessively), tree hugging bunch. Anywho….
So let’s recap, suspension lift check, lack of emissions equipment check, large tire with low profile sidewall on huge chrome rims check, blinding led light bar, yep got it. What’s missing? 
COWCATCHER FRONT BUMPER and an ever present 1/2″ tow hitch!
Whoa! I almost forgot what’s better for plowing through traffic when you’re too busy updating your Instagram with a new flat brim hat selfie? Two hundred pounds of front bumper, that’s what. 
What really kills me, is that while some of these trucks do get dirty, most never leave the pavement. Ever. Why. If a Subaru driving, love everything, 20 something college coed gets her outback more dirty than your truck what does that say about you. 

I’ll finish with something I overheard when a bro truck parked in front of the coffee shop I was at. The passenger falls out and says to the driver “brah, you need to get a bigger dick so you can get a smaller truck”. 


Raging in California 

Remember, when it’s a race to work we all lose.It’s March 20th and I’m driving to work… again. This is a regular event for most people. Sometimes, it’s normal for me too but today, well today is different. I’m taking a count. A count of gravel trucks on this shit highway the state of California calls state route 65.

6am and I’m on the on ramp to 65 North. This is the best part of the drive. A nice long moderate curve that I can coax the Golf .:R into the top of 4th gear. I struggle to merge with traffic that is going faster than I am and refuses to let me in.

If there’s anything I’ve learned while living in California, I’m a native Texan, it’s that Californians will never let you on to a highway. The second thing I’ve learned, Californians will pace alongside you until they try to merge into the side of you. Back to the story at hand.

I finally get on SR65 and I’m going 75mph which means I’m barely keeping up with traffic. This is easily 10mph over the posted speed limit. Oh shit, what’s that closing in on me in my rearview mirror, am I getting pulled over? Nope, just a Toyota Prius going 90 plus mph. He flips me the eco-bird as he passes and subsequently cuts me off.

I hate this drive.

Finally I settle in at 70mph ready to zone out and complete this 36 mile drive. The first part is easy. It’s a two lane highway split with a 40 foot median that makes it relatively stress free. You only have to worry about roadkill and barn owls that are still on their nightly hunt.

Back to the drive. I approach the area where traffic merges from four (combined) to two lanes. I speed up to block out the dude in the Prius (took me at least 15 minutes and countless mph over the speed limit to catch him) go ahead and tail gate me I don’t care.

Anyways, here we go, begin gravel truck count. One, two…….thirteen on a two lane road! Oh look a shotgun blast of 1/2 inch gravel to the windshield, I’m glad my windshield isn’t toast. My mirrors are still attached, though pockmarked. Fuuuu….this road.

I’m almost there. Ten more miles to go. Oh look, a train. At least I’m the first in line at the gate. Then again if any of these rail cars were to derail I’d be done. Squashed beneath some important textile from Oregon. Something certified organic no doubt.

The train is done and the gates lift and there is Mr. Prius again. I passed him and now he’s back with a vengeance. Go, go around me at twenty over the limit. It’s fine with me, work will still be at my destination no matter how early I get there.

I finally arrive at my parking spot of choice, that one spot way the hell out there where any normal driver would avoid. I call this area paradise. Most call it the middle of nowhere. When I come back at lunch there will probably the rattiest piece of rusting Americana parked exactly two centimeters from my door. Whatever, I just wanna get back in and enjoy some traffic free roadway. Someday that will happen, not soon and definitely not today. Today was all about the daily commute.

Welcome to California, where road rules are made up and the speed limits don’t matter.