The field notes
How it got out of hand.
Sandy said she wanted a new truck. Robert assumed she meant something practical, sensible, and capable of fitting into a normal parking space. Then the truck arrived with tires taller than the old one, flames down the sides, and enough chrome to signal the moon.
The first test drive turned into a country-road parade. Sandy handled the wheel like she had been born for the driver’s seat, while Robert stood safely beside the barn giving helpful advice that nobody had requested.
By sunset, the truck had conquered the dirt road, the truck-show crowd, and every ordinary definition of “new.” Sandy called it a modest upgrade. The rest of the county called it the beginning of a much bigger adventure.