As Far As I Can Tell

My new truck is haunted. The nazi-loving ghost of Henry Ford is haunting my pick-up truck and fucking it up whenever he can. Laughing first at the fact that I bought it in his favorite color, he sneers at me as I try to do simple tasks like eject cds, open the tailgate, and use my windshield for something other than a large rock deflector. Old Hank is making me pay for the 9 long years I stuck with my trusty Japanese import. He’s collecting his dues for the loyalty I had to that rusty piece of shit, and he’s going no holds barred now that my warranty has expired.

Today though, he went too far. The kid gloves came off, and the power of his curse hit home clearer than ever. On my way to dinner I thought I saw something odd attached to the back of my truck. I couldn’t make out what it was from a distance, and thought it might be an optical illusion.

Fuck.