I love driving the Big Pig. It makes me feel powerful. I am 5’3” - the rig is 30 feet long. When I drive I can kind of hear Evan talking to me from the shotgun seat but certainly not the kid’s conversation at the table behind me. But I can hear the Ipod playing my favorite John Denver, Carole King and James Taylor tunes, and I can hear myself singing along…sounding fabulous I might add. And I can hear and feel the roar of the mighty Ford engine.
I like to pretend I am a truck driver and give a knowing wave to my fellow drivers as I pass. I think I need a hat to be taken more seriously. My 2” pony tail in the back of my head does a number on the serious factor.
I like driving 14,000 pounds of metal because I get immediate respect from all the little tin cans around me. Respect may not be the right word. Fear. They know I can do a lot more damage to them then they could ever possibly do to me. Fear because they think I don’t know what I am doing and I may go out of control and side swipe them. Fear because they don’t know for sure if I can see them cowering in the right turn lane. Those little sissies. Hee hee hee.
All of my senses are awake when I am behind the wheel. They have to be. Whenever a truck passes the sway blows the rig and I need to compensate so we don’t go over on the shoulder.
Is this love of power and heavy machinery a short person thing? If I was use to having people look up at me would I derive as much enjoyment as I do now?
Is this just another issue about respect? Isn’t life all about respect?
This morning I was talking with my incredible 23 year old niece – who also happens to be about my height. She picked me up at 6:40 AM in order to make the 7 AM Sunrise Yoga class she teaches in La Jolla. After our 75 minute session (where I got lots of personal attention to help align my arms into the proper warrior, downward dog and cobra positions) we got our Yoga approved ice coffees and walked along the ocean and talked about lots of things. Including short people and respect.
She is dating a short guy. I married a short guy. I have given birth to a couple of short guys…although the committee is still out given their ages and we are hoping to channel the Uncle Rick gene(*). We decided it is definitely harder to be a short guy than a short woman. Society. It all comes back to society. People have preconceived ideas about short people. And it is harder to be taken seriously. So that leads to a couple of options: A Napoleonic complex and the need to over compensate; and/or play the silly one and make it work for you; ignore the whole thing because it is more about who you are and the more comfortable you are in yourself the less it matters.
My best friend from college, Becky, is up there - 5’ 9” at least. I thought we were the same height. Then one night coming back from a bar in Northfield, MN making the 2 mile walk back up the hill we passed a store front that acted as a mirror. After years of friendship I finally saw it. I didn’t even come up to her shoulder. How could she have respect for someone who didn’t even come up to her shoulder? For me that would be a 9 year old kid.
I am short and I am proud. That’s why I yell so very loud. Alright.
(*) Uncle Rick is my 6’2” brother.
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Hee hee, funny. OK, but let me tell you a secret. Us taller people think you shorter people are really cute! (can I pinch your cheek next time I see you?) Especially around big rigs and, when possible, big weapons. Perhaps if you go to Arizona you could go to one of those places that let you shoot machine guns, take some pictures and post? In front of the Big Pig would be best. :-)
ReplyDeleteBut your real problem is that you're very close to average height. Perhaps you're suffering from the lack of being in the right percentile, instead being lumped in with 50th or so. Ugh.