POSCOB

I have named my truck "POSCOB". If you're unsure how to pronounce that, join the club. I don't much care how it's pronounced, it's supposed to be an acronym.

This is a truck that is being lent to me for the summer. I pay insurance, I pay gas, I get to use it for the four months I'm in Kelowna. It's pretty much a necessity. I can't use my parents vehicle very often/ever, because they're often out and about, doing pastoral things, like visiting sick people. I can't steal their vehicle from that, now can I. The bus system is Kelowna is one of the worst in the province. I've already checked, it doesn't go to where I work, or where I want to work, or where I might be working. Much walking required. The commute (which already takes 15-20 minutes, depending on traffic and the work I'm attempting to go to) would probably be closer to 1.5 hours. That's just ridiculous. I can't walk everywhere, because, well, I live out in the mission.. and that means I'm a long ways from everything.

So I have this truck, and I've named it POSCOB.

The POS, well, I'll let you figure that part out on your own. Needless to say, it's junk. It's a 1987 Dodge Dakota that has been used for the last whoknowhowmany years as a backup/workhorse vehicle. It was used to move heavy stuff, help with landscapping, and hold things that don't fit anywhere else. When I got it, it had about 8 old house window frames, with glass windows included (on most - some of them were broken and scattered about the truck bed), a bike helmet, a few sheets of unknown origin, a toy helicopter, and an elevator door. Yes, an elevator door. It weighs more than I do, which is not something you want to drag around with you when you drive around Kelowna. The rest of the truck was, and continues to be, filled with dirt which will only rust the truck bed right through, eventually.

The COB stands for "Caged Old Bear". This is because of its temperment. To start it up, I usually have to give it a little bit of gas by pumping the accelerator once or twice. Otherwise, it'll just whine and roll over. Once it gets some gas though, it just roars. It is, at the least, an old 80's V6. There's rumours that it might even be a V8. I'd lift the hood and check, but the hood doesn't lift - it's rather broken (which isn't good, because the bloody thing leaks oil like an angry mother, and I gotta get in there to add some before the idiot light comes on). Anyways, I wouldn't want to stick my head in there. Dangerous. Sometime when I'm driving the POSCOB, I'll come to a red light. Most cars idle. The POSCOB likes to alternate between lulling me into a false place of safety and security, and shaking wildly making terrible, terrible noises. When I finally (and luckily) get to the place I want to be, I'll jam the gearshift into "park" (assuming it'll let me) and the POSCOB will not simply stop, but give a death throe or two, then shudder to a halt.

I call it a Caged Old Bear because it resembles a wild beast that is far past it's prime, yet with a look in it's eye that wishes it still was. It remembers the days when it would tear things limb from limb, and now it's a spectacle in front of shiny onlookers. It's old, it's tired, and if it were able to be - probably suicidal. It's lost it's will to live. At the same time, there's still strength left. Old bear strength. He can "give 'er" if he needs to, but not nicely, and not willingly. Just out of spite for being alive, more than anything.

I went to fill 'er up today. I stopped at $70, still short of full.

Sigh.