Dump Truck

Man with long thinning gray hair and a lomg full beard who speaks with a soft southern drawl.

She thinks I wanna ask a question like, “When I was eight years old and dad was still kinda around, why’d you guys buy a dump truck?” And no, I don’t care about that. I worked things like that out for myself. That’s what you do. That dump truck was around more’a my childhood I remember than my dad was. When my folks first bought it, well, when my dad first bought it or convinced my mom to, I’m sure, I asked for a toy dump truck for Christmas and every birthday the next couple’a years. Tonka woulda been the best, but I’d’a been happy with any ol’ dump truck to play in the dirt with, to be like my dad.

But then he left us. Between my tenth and eleventh birthday. After he left I never asked for one again. I knew better. Ya know why? He left the damn thing parked out there, and the bills kept coming to our house. For my mom to open and see how much he’d left to pay on his dump truck. Of course, she don’t make payments for him. And I know if I’d’a asked for a dump truck for Christmas, she’d’a said, “One right outside you can have. Keys are in the dish by the door.”

Then one day when I was at school and mom was workin’ at Food Lion, it disappeared. Got home on the school bus and the dump truck was gone. All’a kids on the bus yellin’ at me it was gone, and where’d it go? Just wished I could ride to the next stop like that house wasn’t mine. Like there wasn’t supposed’a be a dump truck there. Got off the bus and just stood there starin’ at the big patch of dead grass where he’d left it parked. Good-sized pill shaped oil stain beneath er’the engine had been.

I thought about callin’ mom at Food Lion, but I decided to let her come home to see for herself. She parked her little Celica where she always did and looked around and said, “Bank musta repoed it finally. Serves him right.” She didn’t know I could hear her talkin’ to herself. I was behind the shed, sorta peekin’ to see how she’d react. I didn’t know much about life but I knew she had bigger problems’n my missin’ dad’s missin’ dump truck.

T’this day I don’t like seein’ one. Look away when I can. She thinks I wanna ask some question like, “What do you think happened to dad’s dump truck?” Or, “Why did he leave us?” Don’ know why she’d think I want to ask about those things. Maybe she thinks she has something new to tell me? Won’t matter if she did. Answered those questions for myself years ago.