Truck Nuts: Metallic Balls and the End of Automotive Decency

We where heading south on Highway 3 when the apparition caught our eyes. Nothing could have prepared us for the sight, not that it offended us per say, but the shear thought of it was lunacy. Some God awful person had finally deemed the world ready for nuts on trucks. There was no mistaking the eight inch pair of balls hanging from the trailer hitch of the silver Dodge. Christ almighty, had some redneck wielding a shotgun and a John Deere hat finally taken over Congress and forced this debauchery into action. Surely not, but someone would need to pay, and I felt a sudden urge to pull this poor chap over and give him the fear. All that America had become; decadent, depraved, and infested with village idiots and Neanderthals was summed up right there with one shiny pair of testicles. To further my curiosity I accelerated our vehicle to catch a further glimpse of the swine that was operating this monstrosity. I had two possible visions in my mind of what might be sitting in the drivers seat of this evil automobile. One was the classic image of a pig farmer from Arkansas wearing a Motley Crue t-shirt and supporting his freshly trimmed mullet with a cold Budweiser stashed coolly between his legs. The other image was the typical truck driving, God fearing man who felt it his personal responsibility to represent his penile agitation by driving the biggest truck he could find on the lot. I pictured this man driving off the lot in his new truck blasting the latest Brooks and Dunn tune en route to watch the Cowboys football game. At some point amidst the drunken orgy of football, cheap beer, and potato chips him and his buddies had surely decided they need to purchase some Truck Nuts at a whopping good deal of 29.99 a pair. The whole scene frightened me and I could only imagine what was next. Truck vaginas or perhaps a pair of perky breast for your Camry that would hang from the rear view mirror, why not it, seemed perfectly logical all things considered.

We came alongside the left side, or port for the sea going type, and took a look inside the cabin. Much to my co pilots surprise and mine a woman was driving this hell bound beast. I panicked not knowing what to make of the whole ordeal and slammed on the gas making the first exit which was across the overpass. The implications were too astronomical and I didn't have enough alcohol in my system to make any sense of it. What was this woman trying to say, had she stolen the car, what were her intentions, was this some crazy cult, or perhaps it was just another sign of our decaying society. I wasn't sure how the two were linked but I knew somehow it would all make more sense once we got to the restaurant.

I ordered two glasses of rum and a cup of ice with my orange chicken. The whole mess was playing with my head and I could barely enjoy my evening dinner, well I always enjoyed the rum. By the time we had paid our bill I was sure there was a good explanation for everything and the young Asian girl at the restaurant had agreed as she hurried us out the door. The tangy sensation in my stomach mixed with the heaviness of the rum spices had started to kick in and I was feeling lethargic. I made Jay drive while I kept an eye out for more of the nut wielding tyrants who might be waiting back on the highway. It would be several days before I saw another member of the trucks armed with balls, but these were all men and I had a little easier time rationing that. When we did however return to the safety of our home I could wonder how long it would be until one of these whacko infested my quiet little slice of suburbia. Unsuspecting parents and children slept while we pulled into the driveway, totally unaware of the horrible display of stupidity that awaited them on the highways.

In keeping with my highest priority I first assaulted the liquor cabinet and then headed upstairs to my office. I had to find the root of the idiocy and see it in all its decadent splendor. Numerous pages flashed across my screen when I Google searched the infamous "ball sacks for trucks", that is when I first learned they were commonly referred to as Truck Nuts and worse yet that they were common. I was to late someone backwoods cult had already leashed this epidemic on our beautiful country and it wouldn't be long before every cowboy that found himself behind the wheel of a truck would be packing an extra pair of testes. The world would soon have another useless relic that it could thank the good old U.S. of A for. What are we setting ourselves up to be remembered for, will our generations legacy be carved in stone as the ones who invented the pet rock, pogs, and now Nuts for Trucks? It was all too much and I fixed myself another drink. Now I can only smirk and mask my overwhelming impulse to run anyone off the road and commence to publicly flogging them when I see a metallic or rubber sack hanging from their rear bumper. Then again maybe I would feel safer locked in a cage with all the other degenerates and perverts, away from the insanity which we call home.