One of the reasons his truck had caught my eye was the two silver rams heads on the hood. He caught me looking at them and said "Yeah, this is a Dodge times two. I added them myself." and he laughed. He went on to say "I like to think of them as goats though. All right now. Let me pull out. You can load them dogs up in back and hop in." As he walked around the front of the truck I noticed he had put on his WWF belt and the hammer was riding inside a loop in it. I thought about that as he got in and shut the truck door. "Don't let him get to close" was my conclusion. Armor or no armor. Helmet or no helmet. Getting smacked with a sledge hammer was going to hurt.
He tossed his gloves in and started it up. I recognized that sound. The chitter of a diesel engine running. Then he hit the gas. That didn't sound like Chiefs diesels. I stepped back to let the smoke it was blowing out the exhaust dissipate. I was used to weird smells coming out of diesels because Chief ran ours on whatever he could find. This had a darker, almost like what iron smells likes scent. I liked this smell better. Sometimes Chiefs diesels exhaust made me hungry. Especially when he was using peanut oil.
I dropped the tailgate and told Woof "Hop in Woof." I was surprised. He leaped in like he had been doing it all his life. The rest of the pack, except for one followed him right in. The exception was the one who had been scratched by the ricochet. He hesitated, then looked up at me with a sad look. I yelled "Get in the fucking truck!" He jumped in. I closed the gate, and walked around to the passenger side thinking "That numb nut actually thought I would help him up." I climbed in, sat back and looked around. Everything had been redone in leather including the dashboard except for the floorboards. They had untanned deer skin on them.
"Nice ride" I told him.
He grinned "Yep. Can't beat a '89 W 250 Cummins Turbo Diesel. Got a Powerstroke intercooler, S300G turbo, with pryo and boost, and a 727 tranny."
"No shit" I replied. Mentally I sighed and thought "A gear head. Jeebus."
He nodded solemnly and replied "Yep. No shit."
"So what are using for fuel?" I asked him.
"Blood." he replied, then put the truck into gear, looked over at me, winked, an added "Christian when I can get it."
Thanks to LA Confederate for the diesel help.