You Drive a WHAT?!

This is going to be a long post. If you don't have time to read it, you might want to come back later. Or scroll down and check out my Dragonerriers post--it's much funnier, anyway.
Our new house is out in the country. In Edmonton, suburbs are either a part of the city (as in Mill Woods or Callingwood) or else they're their own community, with stores and schools and malls (as in St Albert or Spruce Grove). In Nova Scotia, you leave Halifax, drive through the forest for a while, the suddenly, you're in a residential neighbourhood (as in Williamswood). The really cool thing about that is that you get to live in this beautiful, quiet area, surrounded by forest and lakes, but you still have neighbours. The unfortunate bit is you have to drive in to Hali to go grocery shopping or to rent a movie or to sit in a coffee shop and work. Which is not bad if you have a car, since Spryfield is only a few minutes away (and despite Jody's dire warnings, I haven't been mugged or shot there yet). However, if you don't have a car, you're a little hooped, since the buses don't run to the outlying communities, despite the fact that they're a part of the HRM (Halifax Regional Municipality). Needless to say, this makes Morag-less me feel a little claustrophobic. I COULD ride into Bedford every morning with Trent, take a bus into Halifax, then ride back with him in the evening, but I don't like being that dependent. Besides, if I decide to stay home one day, then discover that we need milk or lightbulbs or something, I'm stuck waiting until 6p.m., when he gets home. So we talk about it and decide that I really do need a car.
Gas prices are ridiculously expensive out here. In fact, the only thing more expensive than gas in Halifax is milk. (Ponder it.) So we decide that I need a nice, fuel-efficient small car. Except that one day it snowed, and all down the Old Sambro Road (the road that leads us to Williamswood) small cars are sliding into the ditch. Also, virtually the whole way into Hali is via highway, and though Grillface (i.e Trent's Toyota RAV4) is great on gas in the city, the engine is too small to be efficient on the highway. Okay. So we decide we need something heavier with a slightly bigger engine--maybe another Taurus or a small SUV. And we decide, yeah, a small SUV is a good idea. That way, when we start to do house repairs, we can fill up the back with lumber and drywall, and we can use it to haul wood for our 2 fireplaces. So Trent gets quiet for a minute, and he says, "I know you aren't going to like this, but a small truck might actually be more practical for that kind of thing. And if we get a 4x4, you'll be safer driving in the winter."
Truck? No way. I don't want someone yelling "Sorry about your penis!" at me. Forget it. I did NOT escape redneck, duelly-driving Alberta to drive a truck.
Except that it starts to make sense. And then on Christmas day, we go to visit Trent's aunt, uncle and cousins in Moncton. They own a Ford dealership there. Next thing I know, I'm signing lease papers on a Ford Ranger XLT extended cab. Sorry about MY penis, indeed.
This is not the end of it though. I am buying a gun rack for that baby, and I'm going to mount the giant Super-Soaker watergun that Trent's dad bought be on the back of it. Sorry about YOUR penis, you soggy jerk.