For the love of trucks

When I was around 3 years old, my parents made a deal with me: If I would stop sucking my thumb, they would take me to the toy store and buy one toy for me – any toy I wanted.  I know a deal when I hear one, so I accepted their bribe – and a month later, I was in the toy store, perusing the aisles, looking for my reward.

I chose a big plastic dump truck.  The truck was easily two feet long, the cab of the truck was blue, the dump container was red, and – get this – the dump container worked. 
For real.

I remember loading blocks and socks and anything else I could successfully dump into the back of that truck, lifting the dumping device, watching the items tumble to the floor, and being absolutely thrilled.  Fill, dump, laugh, repeat.  It was fantastic.

When I was 4 years old, for Christmas my parents got me a digging truck.  This toy was amazing: It was metal (not plastic), it was construction-yellow (not red and blue), it used levers to move the digging arm (instead of just moving the part directly with my hands) – this truck was the real deal.

I adored that truck.

Over time, my interests turned to matchbox cars, then Transformers, then stuffed animals, then boys.  I outgrew my truck-playing days.

But still, to this day, I love watching construction machines.  Cranes and dozers and front-loaders, they are all incredible.  And every single time I see one, I think about my first plastic red-and-blue dump truck, and my yellow metal digger.  And my parents.  And their insightfulness, and their cleverness, and their generosity.

A few of our neighbors are getting their asphalt driveways replaced with concrete ones.  Two days ago the tear-out occurred; yesterday the dirt compressing took place; today, the concrete was mixed and poured.

Mixers.  Another great construction machine.  I watched the sloppy, heavy, wet cement rush out of the main mixing chamber, down the u-shaped slide, and into wheelbarrows (to then be carted off to the driveways).

And once again, the toys of my childhood came to my mind – quickly followed by a felt-sense of both love and gratitude for my parents.

And I smiled.



About Stef

A "serious" gal who is trying to remember to lighten up and smile.
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16 Responses to For the love of trucks

  1. Lia says:

    I am continually amazed and inspired at your ability to smile and find joy in all kinds of situations. Love the story.


    • Stef says:

      Thanks Lia! Honestly, I’m a little surprised at how easily the smiles come – and sometimes where they come from. I suppose it’s like anything else, though: the more one practices something, the more natural that something becomes. 🙂


  2. Rebekah says:

    Come hang out by my house where they’re tearing up the 169/494 interchange. New trucks every single day! 😉


    • Stef says:

      Notice I didn’t say there was any short supply of trucks. 😉 Out shopping this morning, I also saw a big crane taking apart a now-empty (out of business) store. And of course road construction…. 🙂


  3. Joss says:

    sweet memories.


  4. Mom says:

    Hey Stef,

    Wow…I remember vividly the red and blue truck…think that I still have it as a matter of fact!..I did not remember the yellow truck….hmmm….amazing how our brains work…the smallest thing triggers such good memories! Dad and I were amazed that out if the entire toystore…Toys R Us…that after you took your time and looked at EVERYTHING …aisle by aisle…after about an hour and a half you chose a simple cheap plastic truck! I still laugh about that to this day. Good times!

    Love ya



    • Stef says:

      Mom, I’m delighted you left a comment! 🙂 Hearing your perspective on the story is fun; and the fact that you were inspired to share it with me makes me smile. 🙂 I love you!


  5. Love the sweetness of childhood memories!!


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