I didn’t have friends with minitrucks that have adjustable suspension, smooth body lines, bangin’ sound systems, big stickers, custom paint and custom interiors. Nor did I grow up around those minitrucks that break down and leave their drivers stranded. An acquaintance once asked if I wanted to “hit a switch”: I said no. I was a very precise person, only taking calculated risks while thinking of the consequences. I didn’t like ambiguity or confusion; I liked predictability and stability. This attitude infiltrated all aspects of my life.

I didn’t have friends with minitrucks that have adjustable suspension, smooth body lines, bangin’ sound systems, big stickers, custom paint and custom interiors. Nor did I grow up around those minitrucks that break down and leave their drivers stranded. An acquaintance once asked if I wanted to “hit a switch”: I said no. I was a very precise person, only taking calculated risks while thinking of the consequences. I didn’t like ambiguity or confusion; I liked predictability and stability. This attitude infiltrated all aspects of my life.

But there were hints of a different attitude. My 1999 Chevy S-10 truck was stock for about three months before I had it lowered as a “Happy 17th-to-myself” gift. Three days later came the Flowmaster exhaust. I didn’t even ask mom and dad if I could install it because I knew the answer would include some combination of warranty, responsibility, and reliability – terms teenagers don’t understand, even the cautious ones. On the day I graduated from high school a year and a half later, I got back my bagged truck. As I drove it for the first times, I felt so….well. . . unsafe, feeling death wouldn’t be too far off. I made it home the first night, only to blow an airline in the driveway. My brother and I stared at the truck as if it was a newborn: I didn’t know how to treat this new thing, and certainly had no clue what I was doing. Heck, at 18 you barely know how to drive!

So how did this minitruckin’ thing happen to a person like me?

My brother and I got into it at the same time. I will never forget the excitement of pulling in to the parking lot of that first show and seeing so many cool trucks. Lifted, lowered, primered, full custom – I was beyond fascinated. And that’s before reaching the show! This excitement, combined with some “I’ll do it if you do it” classic sibling peer pressure, was enough to fully squelch our doubt and launch us wholeheartedly into the “minitruckin’ scene.”

The bottom line just may be that sometimes you don’t know enough to know what you’re getting yourself into. You don’t know enough to even know of the consequences or risks. Had I known enough to really think it through, would I be a minitrucker today? We’ll never know, but I’m guessing not. Yet, overall, I have no regrets four years later.