Photo Story: Taco Truck
Dad’s latest between-jobs hobby was circling ads with orange highlighter. Imagine, love! An RV! Airstream? Converted bus? Nothing we needed, still less could afford. Dad didn’t drive, but he’d rattle on until Mum relented to look at least.
The taco truck was his undoing, 50 miles away down a potholed dead end. Dad buddied with the owner, trading pie-eyed dreams. The truck’s roof was ripe, menu boards fossilized. A reek like wrestler-sweat swamped my nostrils. Mum sly-eyed me, brandished a check.
“You embarrassed me,” Dad muttered as we drove away. Mum shifted up a gear. Put her foot down again.
Photo Credit: Yazz Atlas
Love your last line – “Put her foot down again.” I also like your mom as she indulges your dad his dreams.
Thank you for your comments Holly!