They wanted me to play with dolls. I said no thank you. Then they gave me hot wheels—but I couldn’t get them to go fast enough. Big dump trucks were fun, but I just kept imagining myself inside of them, taking on the hills and dirt and getting muddy in the process. I can only be straight laced A-student and girl scout for so long—I have to bust out and find some excitement!
Nobody likes to be the guy pulling into the parking lot with the rusty ride. Honestly—it’s embarrassing. I mean, we keep our heads high as we pull that old Radio Flyer behind us, but it’s just not keeping up with our playtime agenda. We have mountains to climb—well, at least sort of impressive hills that are at least half our size—and we can’t do it with footpower. We need horsepower.
I mean, look at this thing. It’s a dream come true. I can just imagine pulling up to the playground in this tricked out dune buggy—amazing. Obviously, it’s not all about what everybody else thinks (or so says my mom), but honestly I wouldn’t mind watching Tommy’s eyes get really wide at my Power Wheels Dune Racer Green machine. I could zip up there, at my max speed of 5mph, and park that beast in the sunshine with the chrome accents and off road tires gleaming right in his eyes. Perfect. Just perfect. Don’t tell my mom, though. She’ll lecture me about friendship. That kid made me eat worms once—I don’t think we’re going to be friends.
My dad has always been my hero. For these last four years, my dad has been the example that I want to follow. When he eats pizza, I want to eat pizza. When he gets muddy, I try to join in. And when he jumps into a truck that’s so big that I can’t even climb into it without Mom’s help—well, I really want one too. When I saw this Power Wheels Ford F150 Truck? I thought maybe my eyes were fooling me. When I found out the Power Wheels Ford was not only real but was my size? I was on a mission.
It’s tough to spend all day in a uniform, following people I don't even like in long single file lines to move from one place to the other, eating the worst kind of food from a place that doesn’t seem to care about seasoning or taste, and then being herded like cattle into public transportation that is stuffy and hot. Sometimes, I feel like a nameless, faceless drone—but once that 3 o’clock bell rings, I am free. I unbutton the top button of that polo shirt, kick off those school shoes, and head for the open road.
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