- Nyel’s APV
When not in use, Nyel’s truck sits outside the house. It won’t fit in our garage – too high. Besides, it’s a one-car, one rider-mower, one cannon (in the winter) garage, and our P.T. Cruiser is the Chosen One. The truck, a ’93 Ford pickup, has never complained.
Most of the time it still looks black and in the rain it is even shiny, but during dry spells it is a faded, dull-looking gray. The bumpers are rusty and lichens grow around the window wells. The license plate is BOOKS, a left-over vanity from our bookstore days. It is a vehicle with character.
Nyel calls it his “APV” – All Purpose Vehicle. It has transported boxes of precious documents to the Washington State Research Center in Tacoma. It has hauled loads of soil and beauty bark for the garden. It has pretended to be a tractor and pulled out huge rhododendrons during garden renovations. It has even gone to California to pick up a set of twin beds that we purchased on e-bay. And, when Nyel is working, it is his commute vehicle of choice.
Although it has never had a bath, – Nyel insists “it’s a truuuck” and doesn’t need to be pampered – it is in good running condition. Motor-wise, that is, and until yesterday. That’s when I noticed that, in addition to the hearts and initials drawn on the dusty door, there were two flat tires on the driver’s side. The rear tire was pancake-flat, the front one not-so-much, but not drivable.
Later in the day our neighbors, Bradley and Dan, knocked at the door and asked if we knew that our tires had been ice-picked. They showed us the holes in the sidewalls and gave us the unwelcome news that they won’t be fixable. A random act of maliciousness? A ‘pay back’ by someone we have offended?
After a lot of speculation and useless ranting (mostly on my part, Nyel being the strong, silent sort), we decided to decline Dan’s offer to remove the tires, load them in my car so I can take them away and buy replacements, and then mount the new ones. What a guy!
Since Nyel will be a long-time in recovering from his shoulder surgery and unable to drive anyway, we decided to leave things as they are with the truck, at least for now. Dan’s offer, bless him, stands. Thank goodness for kind neighbors! And a pox on ice-pickers and their ilk.
A pox on the ice pick vandals indeed. May he/she/they wake up one morning, like the morning before an important evening event, to find a huge pimple pox on his/her/their proboscis.
The question on such a crime is how someone must be prepared for it. Who drives or walks around with an ice pick or an awl in his pocket? It’s really sad that someone stoops so low…literally.
It’s awful how those things always feel like a personal attack, when they’re most likely random–just someone out there with other axes to grind and nothing better to do.
…or an icepick to poke.
Senseless, especially in an out-of-the-way place like Oysterville. They had to come there on purpose and if you all were the only ones targeted it is worriesome that someone is indeed mad about something.