Have I Mentioned...

That I slayed the beast.

About 2 months ago now my boyfriend decided to a buy"part time truck". He needed one to haul stuff for projects on his grandparent's house, such as the ton of brick for the garden wall, and for me to haul the animals, feed, or hay. We both needed a "part time truck" so it works out.

The Beast is a 1991 Ford 3/4 ton (250) pick up with manual locking hubs for the 4x4. It was bought from a wood-hauling company, so its complete with chipped paint on the hood and a LOT of dents. She's a beauty. Functional junk as he likes to call it.

July 3rd I borrowed the truck to take out to our old cattle property behind Crescent Valley High and pull up some much needed fencing for the new property. The property is actually part of the Jackson Frazier wetlands,but this is not where I ran into problems. During the two months we had pulled the cows off the property the grass grew past 4ft high. This is where the 4x4 comes in handy. We drove through the field, pulled some t-posts, got loaded up and were ready to go. My sister decided to have a smoke while I turned the Beast around.

In doing so, some hot-wire fell out of the truck and unraveled and got caught around the u-joint on the back part of the drive shaft. My sister flagged me down when she realized something was stuck so immediately I stopped. Bear in mind this was during the first Heat Advisory. Laying in 4 ft of grass we took turns cutting the fire out until we were confident we had gotten it all. La-dee-da. Took off on my way home.

All of a sudden I hear a short squeal. I stop ASAP and check to make sure I properly switched back into 2 wheel high from 4 wheel low. Everything seemed alright, and headed out. On Highland another 2 squeals. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Stop at the Good Sam Pharmacy to pick my mom's prescription, and take another look underneath. Nothing.

Finally I get up to highway speeds and almost make it home. I forgot to grab my stepdad his drug of choice: Mountain Dew. I hop out at the Peoria Corner Market and smell something burning. I look around, don't see anything. Pop my head underneath the truck and the transmission is spewing bright pink fluid. No bueno. I'm stuck. At 4pm on a friday. The 3rd of July. In the heat. I call B.

I am prepared for anger, no, WRATH. There is none. He took off work early, and headed right over. We assess the situation and then spend the next three hours pulling out the rear axles and drive shaft to make sure we don't put any excess stress on the tranny or rear end. It was so incredibly hot.

In the midst of pulling out the axles and taping over them, he starts wiping oil up off the ground. "Man I really hate going for a ride and hitting oil on the pavement, it kicks the tires out." I just caused almost a $1000 in damage to HIS truck and he's worried about getting oil on the road, because of the danger it poses for motorcyclists. Who woulda thunk? That's why I love this guy. He had all the reasons to be pissed. When the wire got caught around the drive shaft in the field the title "How To Piss Off Your Boyfriend 101" popped into my head for a blog, but it was so completely wrong.

A whole blog of my idiocracy just to say that I love him for being different.

-Goose.