Zed sold his truck. The 1984 Chevy Silverado with the smooth brown and red leather bench seat and stick shift. Girls would scooch left to press their thighs against him while they bumped down dirt roads. The truck smelled of fall hunting trips: thick pregnant pine needles, red clay and sagebrush stuck in the undercarriage. All the work he'd done. A homemade scissor lift for the front end, crossover steering, a built 350 with 700 trans and 205 transfer case. Gone. For her.
Her lips, her jelly bean-colored high heels. Her power. The sex. Jesus.
Janelle had a good job, an education. She was a lawyer for the local city attorney's office. They met at a bar one night. She was smart, funny and held his hand the right way. At first she called him country boy, admired his farmer's tan, called the elk and deer in his freezer the "lean, organic alternative to beef."
And unlike any other woman he'd been with, she was passionate about her causes. She had her own life and it fascinated him to be blasted by a real opinion backed up by genuine thoughts. She took up the cause of breast cancer research. He missed a couple hunting trips to do some 5k walks where he wore pink over his camo pants. She marched with him, lacquered nails gently steering his elbow, walking next to the right people, the ones with political connections. She hadn't had cancer, nor had anyone in her family. The mayor had just gone through chemo for it though, and it was a way in for Janelle - a conversation starter.
She asked him to move in while they were waiting for their food at a taco stand: "This weekend my schedule's clear - bring some boxes over and I'll clear out some space in the medicine cabinet."
She lived on the hill overlooking downtown, in a three story modern jangle of metal and wood. He sold his house. She demanded that his guns and hunting gear go into storage, because "the camo doesn't fit the modern decor in this house." He drove his Chevy an extra twenty miles to the job site every day where he worked on the pipelines running natural gas from farm fields south to the big city.
Zed was watching Wheel of Fortune one night in her (their) cavernous media room. "Darling, look at this adorable Hummer!" Janelle waved the Hummer dealer's catalogue in front of his face.
He cringed. It was pink. A pink Hummer H2 with 22 inch double duece chrome rims. The phrase "sport utility truck," made him throw up in his mouth a little bit every time he heard it. "Beautiful," he said. "How much does something like that cost?"
"It's a statement, silly. It's not about the cost. I'm the chairwoman of the Tri-Town Breast Cancer Awareness Group. When they see me in this, people will know I care." Janelle wrapped her perfumed arms around him and whispered, "The salesman is adding a strut front grill. And they are making sure the bed is fully rhino-lined for your deer hunting trips."
Zed said, "Well, that's great. But I'll just take my old Chevy for the trips. We don't need to mess up your new Hummer."
Janelle slid her hand up his thigh. "Well, I was thinking...." She licked his ear. "We don't need two trucks. And yours is so old and nasty. I hear the brakes creaking when you come home from work."
"That truck is my baby, baby girl." Zed parted her lips with his tongue and put his hands under her shirt. "Let's talk about this later."
Hunting seasons came and went, and Zed didn't get to go. Too many political functions where he was hanging on Janelle's arm. November elections put a new mayor in office. One who wanted to implement a city-wide energy savings environmental plan. Janelle bought a Smart Car. The model was called "ForTwo" because, literally, only two people could fit inside. And they couldn't be tall people. The car was silver, shiny, tiny. She pinned a napkin-sized American flag to the antenna.
The night she came home with it, she didn't tell him until after they'd spent some sweaty time on the kitchen floor. Zed held her and stared up at the ceiling while she ticked off its features.
"I've had GPS navigation and Onstar installed in case some jerk in a gas-guzzling SUV hits me and causes serious injury," Janelle said. "And honey, can you whip up a survival kit that will fit in the trunk? I need something to hold me over until the ambulance comes - I just know that I'll get in some horrible accident."
"Sure, I'll get you an Action Packer and some gauze, sweet thing," Zed said.
"What are we going to do with those horrible big trucks?"
Zed didn't say anything.
"I mean, it doesn't look good for the next City Attorney to be driving around in a monster."
"You can park Pinkie in the garage," Zed said.
"I'm going to sell that horrible thing," Janelle said. "I don't know what I was thinking. But I want to get a good price. In the meantime..." and she dug her fingernails into his abdomen, "we need to downsize." Then she climbed on top of him and bit his chest and he forgot to answer.
Janelle did some research, and discovered that a 1984 Chevy Silverado in excellent condition was considered a classic by some, and she arranged for Zed to meet a buyer the next week. The buyer smacked him on the back and the tears Zed had been holding back shot out of his eyes.
That's how he ended up sneaking out at four in the morning with a pink Hummer H2 to pump gas so none of his buddies would see him. The gas station attendant gave him funny looks, so Zed kept his head down under his camo ballcap and his eyes fixed to the ground. He'd get to work about 4:30 and park a quarter of a mile away behind an old gravel pit, and walk in with his lunch.
After work one day he took the thing up to the forest service roads and got into some muddy two-tracks. Brown globs covered the pink mostly, even on the roof. Zed saw a cliff in the distance, drove off-road straight for it, gunned the engine, and fantasized about jumping out at the last second while the vehicle flew through the air over the edge. He put on the brakes in the slush and the mud at the last second, and stared out at the sunset. What about next year's hunting trips? What would his buddies think when he threw a deer in the back of this pink beast? What the hell was he doing, sneaking in to work? Filling up a gas tank once a day at four in the morning?
So the next day he called the buyer. Told him he'd do a straight up swap - Zed's $50,000 Hummer for the $9,000 1984 Chevy. Maybe it was the money, maybe it was the choke in Zed's voice that convinced the guy, but it worked.
Then he bought a ring. A simple gold band. It bounced in its box on the red and brown leather seat.
They pulled in the driveway at the same time: the Smart Car and the Chevy. He got out of the truck, gathered her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her stream of words:
"What is that truck doing here? Where's the Hummer? What are you doing? This is a five hundred dollar suit!"
Zed tossed her on the bench seat, peeled out of the driveway and headed for the mountains. "Come here, darlin'," he said. He pulled her over the stick shift so that she was almost in his lap. "Shut up until we get where we're going."
It was his favorite hunting spot. A road that ended in sagebrush with a view of the red rocks below. He snaked his hand under her - she jumped - and he brought out the box. He killed the engine and showed her the ring. "Will you?"
Janelle looked at him for a minute. She smiled, a real, genuine smile. Then her lower lip puffed out and her mouth took over: "I like the platinum with the princess cut diamonds, five of them, set in a curve..."
"Take it or leave it," Zed said.
Janelle slid out of her heels and rested one bare foot on the dash. The truck engine ticked. She looked at him, at his truck, at the ring. "I suppose you want me to bear your children, too?"
"Just a passel of 'em or so, sweetheart."
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