Being Fulfilled as a Man

So about a month ago I wrecked my car. I had a little Subaru Impreza outback wagon. Nice car, got me where I needed to go, had some decent power, etc. However, it wasn't a very “manly" car. My friends all nicknamed me soccer mom for a while (I'm a dude, by the way), which was quite degrading, let me tell you.

This, however, wasn't nearly as degrading as trying to move things in or on my little car. New TV? Box doesn't fit. Run to the dump? Gotta make multiple trips, and my little car was like a speed bump compared to the monstrous diesel behemoths with burly, smelly manly men throwing out whatever they could get their work glove clad hands on. Work on the house? Broke my roof rack by putting too much sheetrock on the top. Then it rained on the sheetrock because I couldn't get home in time.

I really liked that little car, but it's gone now. Front end almost got ripped off by, coincidentally, another Subaru. When Subaru says 5 star crash rating, they aren't fucking around! No one was hurt, but the car was totaled. Kind of a pisser because I just paid it off, but that's another story for another time.

So with my car gone, we were stuck with my wife's shitty old 99 Honda civic, with the worst engineered cupholders mankind has ever conceived of, as a species, and all the handling given to a brick on a rusty roller skate. The car was white; the bumper black, because it ate a rock one fine St. Patties' day eve after sliding on black ice, and we only had money to put the unpainted bumper on ourselves. Poorly. I hate that car.

Or rather, I hated it: past tense. In a fit of insanity, my wife and I just traded the shit box in for a new vehicle: a truck. A real, manly, 4-liter-V6- black-paint-4x4-ford-mother-fucking truck. We got it yesterday. The truck is in my wife's name, as I am still waiting for the insurance check for the destruction of my car, but that's ok by me, because my name is on the registration and I'm a co-signer, so the truck is at least half mine.

In the past, I had always scoffed at macho guys or people who were obsessed with compensating for whatever they lack through stereotypically masculine purchases or hobbies. After the grief of driving around in a small wagon, this big, black, penis extension gives me a little swagger in my step; a little confidence and bass in my voice. Not that Im lacking in physical manhood; I'm a big guy pretty much any way you measure me, but now people can see it without me having to walk around with my dick hanging out of my pants.

Intellectually I know this is all quite stupid, but these macho feelings are quite new to me, so I've got to feel them out a bit. Feels kinda good, actually. That's right, I got a fucking truck, now back off, son.