“Sorry about your penis.” Really? Hey, don’t be sorry. Your mom doesn’t seem to complain. I’m just kidding; she complains all the time. I would come up with a mature response, but I am not mature. Since, that’s out of the way, let’s move on to the subject at hand.
Jalops are the 1% that still care about what they drive and can generally appreciate a wide variety of vehicles. I too appreciate all kinds of transportation. But I fall into an even smaller sub-category of Jalops that has a no longer secret appreciation for bro-trucks.
Living in the south, trucks are everywhere. It’s fantastic. In a recent study that I made up about southern states, 50% of vehicles on the road are full size trucks and SUVs. There’s no angry Prius lady around to chastise us for warming her globe. We out number her large, self-righteous posterior, so it’s common place to spot the not-so-elusive bro-truck.
I am not a big fan of buying a brand new truck with a lift and tires already installed, and using it to drive to and from work only. Yes, I realize that is exactly what most guys who own bro-trucks do, and I’m guessing that’s why they garner so much hatred from the enthusiast community. I do not agree with this methodology, but who am I to tell you what you should or should not drive? Does driving a V10 truck that has never seen anything other than pavement make you happy? More power to you. ‘Murica! But…
I am an advocate of getting that truck off the pavement. What? Your lifted truck is two wheel drive? You’re not off the hook either baja-bro. Am I suggesting you take your baby off the pavement and bury it in mud up to the windows? Yes, absolutely. At least once.
If you suspect you may have four wheel drive, look for the lever, knob, button or broomstick handle labeled “4H” or “4L.” Yes, I’ll wait while you consult your owner’s manual to figure out how to properly engage it. Find ‘legal’ unpaved area and go.
Going off-road is a fantastic way to make some memories with friends of either gender. But switch it up every now and then so you’re not a complete walking cliché (read: douche). It’s called a bro-truck for reason, bro. There’s nothing worse than seeing your rolling sausage factory perpetuating the stereotype and making me look like an idiot for attempting to defend your ride.
Turn down the rap metal, roll your windows up, and hit the trail. There’re so many options from mudding or mud riding or bogging - depending on which beer you drink - rock crawling, or even just doing some basic wheeling on trails. I’ve spent more nights than I care to remember in my underwear with a shovel digging myself out of a mud hole I was positive was only this deep. I’m not sure why I was in my underwear, but I digress.
But KB, you might say, I don’t have a winch to pull myself out. Well, it’s not my fault you spent fifty grand on a brand new truck and somehow forgot to spend a little more on a winch. KB, none of my friends will come pull me out when I’m stuck at two in the morning. It’s because you’re a terrible person and keep hitting on their girlfriends. Stop doing that, and get new friends. KB, I don’t want to scratch my paint. face palm They make buffing compounds and other products that will help reduce this. Scratches give it character, and since you have none, fool others into thinking you do.
So, being a smaller percentage of an already small percentage isn’t always fun. It’s never the popular opinion. Isn’t that what being a jalop is all about? No? I see you’re readying the pitchforks and torches. I'll show myself out.