Yesterday in the Canadian Tire parking lot, in a disability space, was the blackest meanest looking Chevy Avalanche. It belonged to a young man and he was rightfully using the zone even though I couldn’t see his parking sticker through the tinted windows.
You couldn’t help noticing the truck. It was totally black with a custom blacked out grill and very little chrome. The frame had been customized with raised channel and it was one imposing vehicle.
When I left with my simple purchase of two 2 inch 3.8 bolts and a litre of windshield washer anti-freeze, a man in a Quickie power chair went ahead of me. Something told me he owned the truck.
I raised the hood and topped up my washer fluid, a Canadian Tire parking lot tradition. The man in the chair put a key into the rear of the truck and all of a sudden, the two driver’s side doors lifted like Delorean gull-wings in “Back to the Future”.
I had to see so I mosied over to the truck and asked to watch. The man quietly said “No problem.”
Then he turned another key and the chair lift extended from the driver’s floor out and down onto the ground. It lifted the truck higher in the air. The lift platform had a locking key, like a transfer tractor has to lock the trailer.
All I could do was say “Awesome.” A passing man who had no disability said “Look at that custom boxed frame!”
“Awesome”
The young man quietly explained a few details of his super-truck, drove onto the lift platform, the platform lifted up and into the truck and the doors came down and closed. He rolled down his window and I asked if he was from away.
“Nope, just live outside of town.”
He put his hand in the hand controls, started the motor and drive slowly away.
The license plate said “FREEDOM”.
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