The arrival of the truck was like Christmas morning for more than one of us around here. Justin was getting a truck with all the toys and trinkets, bells and whistles, and I was getting, well, another prince charming. This truck could compete alongside the most chivalrous men, offering a step up, pushing in your chair, and even giving you directions whether you asked for them or not (oh wait, that’s just men in general).
Justin’s bro-mance with the truck and my week with the silver knight began when Lebanon Ford drove it up on a lazy Monday afternoon in college town. Anticipating the delivery, Justin quickly transformed into a five-year-old, bouncing around the house. When it finally arrived, he pulled out the tape recorder and started circling the truck talking about the features—the way the window opens with just a push of a button between the back seat and the bed, and on and on. But when he started talking, it was like he knew everything about the truck. It came naturally to him, like it was in his bones, without needing any real orientation to the features (see Justin’s tour 1 and 2). In minutes I’d zoned out right to sleep as the truck and him bonded. I’d have my time later to figure out this new, silver $50,000 legend that had arrived at our house.
In the shadow of the new truck sat Justin’s Nissan Titan, a big black beauty with a large rear end. Though he determined by the end of the week that his own truck had a little more “get up and go” power, the new truck was for cruising around in absolute leisure. Can’t see behind you while you’re pulling out in a neighborhood of twelve children under age twelve? No problem, the camera on the dash shows you what’s behind you, and how close you are getting to it. No excuse for hitting little Lucy’s new bike now, is there?
After the “honeymoon” stage had worn off with the truck, we started really analyzing its features. Sure, it has chivalry and glitz and promises, but can it really deliver? It proved itself true to its word.
One of my first worries was just getting up into that thing, or helping my five-foot tall grandmother into it if we took them anywhere. There were no running boards to step up onto, after all. Were there?
When you open the door, a few things happen in quick succession. First, the running boards fold out of the truck, like a man offering his hand to step softly up into a carriage. (Okay, maybe that fantasy is a little far-gone). But it does make getting in and out much easier—except in heels, watch it! Then, when your door shuts, the running boards fold back in, revealing a sleek, uncluttered look for your ride.
Next, the seat adjusts up to the wheel, prepping you for driving. Likewise, when you turn off the car, the seat slides back automatically to give you room to get your legs out. But don’t forget to do anything out of order, or this’ll happen to you:
Drive drive drive, turn off truck. Seat slides back, you open door, running boards come out. But wait! You forgot to shut the sunroof on such a beautiful day. Turn the car back on, and your seat slides again, boards come back up, etc. Close the sunroof, turn the car back off, everything slides back to off position. Now you are too dizzy to even notice that the back seat window was open too. It all starts over.
Needless to say, the system takes a little getting used to. But, like every good man, the consistent chivalry is not hard to get used to once you expect it, even after the honeymoon phase fizzles.
Speaking of getting in the truck, it offers more physical assistance than just the runners coming out to meet you. In the bed of the truck, there is a hidden step and a bar to grab to get up in there. To some hard-core pick up men, this may seem like a wussy addition to an otherwise manly man’s truck. But a real man knows when to put aside his pride, and just put down the damn step (see video of Dedo getting into the truck).
And who else than Dedo, my Greek grandfather (remember from the Ford EDGER blog?) to show us how real men act. As Justin showed him around the truck, the step was among his favorite features. Whether you are 83 years old, or wearing high heels, or carrying a huge load of something in your arms, another step just can’t hurt. Let’s be honest, three-fourths of the population is not physically able or willing to just pop up into the bed of truck with joints of a fifteen-year old. Just because the men on Marlboro commercials can do it doesn’t mean the rest of us should.
When you have a man –err – truck to show off like this one, you do it. So, around the end of the week, four of us girls made our way down to Hyde Park for a girl’s night on the town. We started at Cumin Eclectic Cuisine. On the way, the truck solicited some wanted and some unwanted attention. Driving through the construction zone, we stopped uncomfortable close to a pick up truck of sweaty men heading home from the job for the day. Needless to say, they noticed the hot truck full of twenty-somethings ready for a night on the town. My elbow may have accidentally leaned on the “roll window up” button to avoid an awkward situation.
But, some even better attention came after dinner in the form of one-year-old Griffin and his parent.
We had parked a block over from Cumin in a beautiful neighborhood of blooming trees and young families. Everyone was out on this Friday night with a stroller, a dog, an ice cream cone, or an iPod and running shorts for the more ambitious. As we got into the truck, a one-year old started pointing and getting majorly excited about the truck. His Dad brought him down the lawn, and they prepared to watch the “big tuck” drive away. But Griffin’s dreams were about to be fulfilled.
I asked if he wanted to sit in the truck, and did he ever. He was mesmerized by the entire experience, as his whole body wasn’t quite as big as even half the wheel on that truck. He got to beep the horn, felt the seat moving to make his feet move up to the pedals—or at least within five feet or so of his little shoes—and, as his Dad said, felt the pride of his first truck experience. He told Griffin, multiple times, “Some dressed up ladies and a truck are ogling over you—it doesn’t get any better than this! Ever!” (See Griffin video)
The silver truck headed off to our final destination of the night, a fashion show and night of fun at Anthropologie, an eclectic mix of clothes and items in Rookwood Commons. Though the “truck” part of the Platinum F150 was slightly out of place at this shopping center, the classy “Platinum” part was very much at home. Either way, parking was a challenge, as the truck just does not fit in tight spaces, close spaces, or, I learned, the space they allow for the ATM drive through at the bank.
That’s a man.
Throughout the week, the truck seemed to be going out of its way to make us comfortable at every turn. Like a great guy, it attracted all the right attention, gave on demand directions through the built in GPS, and gave you enough space to be comfortable.
Oh, and of course the Platinum F150 could be a work truck too, if you can get yourself out of relaxation mode long enough to actually do some work.
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