Hector the Hellion

Some of you may remember a while back that I was perusing ads for a used truck.  Well, a couple months ago, I got a truck, it’s not much, but it’s a truck, and I like it.

Hector (y’all know I name everything) is an older truck, but for the most part, he’s a go-getter.  I like him.  I want to keep him.

But there’s a problem.

It turns out; Hector likes the people who live where I keep my horses far better than me.  Seriously, that plucky little truck has a personality, and that personality doesn’t like me, not one bit.

Okay, so let me explain.

Where the horses are currently at (which is changing, I’m moving them somewhere new tomorrow) you have to go up this rather steep hill.  Hector, being a small truck, doesn’t care for hills too much, but he makes it up there ok.  So every day, we climb up the hill to go see Stetson and Cheyenne.

FOUR times now, while trying to go back down that hill, Hector has died on me, the ONLY times he has ever died, has been in front of these people’s house.

The first time it happened, I was headed to “the boy’s” house to hang out with some friends and celebrate MY birthday.  Well, let’s be fair, our birthdays are nine days apart, so technically OUR birthday, but this post is about ME, not him!

As we got to the hill, just as we started to go down, Hector said “Nope!” and died, and we coasted to the bottom of the hill and stopped at the stop sign.  I tried everything I knew to get him to start back up again, but nothing would work, I finally had to call for a rescue party.

The second time it happened the exact same way, we started down the hill, Hector said “Heck no!” died, and we left him at the bottom of the hill.

The last two times, however, Hector has given up subtlety for a more in-your-face approach.  The third time this happened, I was passing the house, because since the barn burned down, we’ve been keeping the horses at a neighbor’s house down the street.  As soon as we passed the house, Hector started throwing a hissy fit, folded his arms, stuck out his bottom lip, and stomped his feet until he finally just shut down all together and came to a rest directly in front of the house he loves so much.

Last night, we made it fine past the house, got the horses fed and started home.  As soon as the house came into view, what do you think Hector did?

So, I’m apparently the owner of a very spoiled rotten truck that is not willing to share his love with anyone else.  I don’t know what his obsession is with this house but I know one thing…

When Hector finally dies for real, I’m digging a giant hole and burying him in their back yard…it’s the respectful thing to do.

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