I spent my teens years wanting a truck as an expression of automotive gender identity: I am a girl with a truck.

I drove a 1985 powder blue Dodge Ares instead.

Then, I learned about fuel efficiency and global warming and got a subscription to Utne reader.

Trucks suddenly seemed much less cool.

I started to understand the role trucks play in rural and suburban society as financial signifiers adjacent, though rarely fully in, working class identify.

So, I drove a Honda CR-V and used to move hay.

Then, I got a Honda Element, which saved my husband's life when he met a tree on wet leaves.

(I'll add here: PLZ MOAR VEHICLES WITHOUT CARPET FLOORS).

We got the Subaru after the Element's accident. I was pregnant and it seemed like a good car for a baby seat.

The thing about the Subaru is that it's low to the ground and can't really do double duty in a field.

I try.

The check engine light goes on.

So, I suppose this was inevitable. I need a vehicle to use around the farm, to move wood and buy supplies and get there fucking scrap metal out of the buildings.

It's cheap and old and not pretty, but those adjectives also describe me.

(I got it from Craigslist. The owner had a broken beach back and it hurt to get in and out of the truck. I brought him steaks as a thank you in case we didn't buy it. He gave us two miniature wells. The toddler is thrilled.)