Do you think it’s time to clean the truck?

My hay guy got a new truck- a pristine dually in a pearlized-platinum color, with near Porsche-like lines. That big diesel engine hums like a finely tuned tank.  If Tony Soprano had a truck, it would look like this. I liked it even more the second time I saw it, muddy and mussed. Should a dually really be this sexy?

I am the other kind of truck owner- forever driving my old truck. It’s broken in really well at this point and truly the perfect purse. There, I said it.

My training business is mobile, so my truck doubles as a traveling tack room. Whips on the dashboard. And a tub behind the seat with various training gear. Then all my tech lesson aids: a sound system, tablet computer, video camera. Depending on the day, I might have a wading pool in back. I keep ulcer and colic remedies handy. There are scattered notebooks with scribbled ideas and reminders, along with popcorn and ice tea. Living in Colorado requires at least three seasons of weather gear at all times.  I like to keep a halter with me, in case I come upon any strays. And of course, I don’t go anywhere without my helmet.

There is usually at least one co-worker/dog with me. My dogs see the truck as a kind of Imax kennel and since I leave keys in the ignition, the truck does need to be guarded. (Okay, no one else might want my truck, but still, Howdy takes his job seriously.)

I have a kind of reverse pride in my truck, and after all, I would never consider a truck my primary form of transportation. Would a stranger judge me harshly?

This week I was driving on a dirt road, on the way to the next client appointment and thinking about how great the last horse worked. Suddenly, a nose bleed- startling, colorful, dramatic! I never get nose bleeds! Awk!

I pull over and stop, tilting my head to the side, like that that will save me from a blood splattered shirt. Now what? I never learned the tissue habit, just not in my upbringing. I look around the truck- nothing… Howdy furrows his brow. The Dude Rancher drives the truck sometimes and he has good tissue habits, so I lean over to check the glove box.

The latch opens to reveal tissue! Hooray, but it’s totally shredded. It’s a feather bed fluff of neat, clean confetti size pieces. I know, I am thinking the same thing… Somebody lives here! I carefully pull some out for my nose, and then lean closer.

Stealth: I pull the top layer of tissue confetti aside-then another layer. About 3 inches in, I find a tidy nest, woven from Howdy’s hair, at the center of the tissue shreds. Someone got loose dog hair from the seat and brought it here- so much work. Sweet and soft, this has been a little living room. What did they eat? Where there babies? Is the mouse family in a new barn, thanks to my truck?

“Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Ferris Bueller.

I’m enjoying this Animal Planet moment when it dawns on me: My master plan for success, international recognition, and ultimate world domination is right on course- in an old truck with a good dog. Lucky me.

What aha moments do you have pursuing your Master Plan?

Anna Blake, Infinity Farm.