Magoo

This lovable heap of metal is my good friend, Magoo.

My 1997 Chevy S10.  I got him sometime in the summer of 2005–my first vehicle.  Since that time, he and I have taken many trips, hauled various things for various people, and made long-lasting memories.

Okay, we get it–you love your truck.  Why the hell did you name him Magoo?

Glad you asked.  A couple of summers ago, I was taking a trip to see my girlfriend, who lives four and a half hours away.  About two hours into said trip, the worst storm I’ve ever been in hits.  The rain is falling in sheets, and lightning is striking no more than fifty feet away from me.  At this very moment, my wipers stop working.  Yeah.

I would have pulled over, but the shoulders on this particular road were narrow, and I couldn’t see how far it was to the guard rail.  I could barely make out the impressions of the emergency flashers of the car in front of me.  At a snail’s pace I carried on, blind as…

Mr. Magoo!

I carried on, made the trip, and had a new wiper motor installed when I returned home.  Magoo and I have been best buds ever since.

Oh yeah, he’s political too.