I am a self-proclaimed small car person. Actually, I would love to live without a car at all and I try not to use my car for walkable errands, but having a car is really a necessity where I live. So I drive a small car and enjoy the agility of it, even if the backseat is practically non-existent. However, my significant other has what I call a great big frickin’ truck– like it’s a monster, a beast, a tank, a gargantuan, colossal cruise-ship size vehicle. That is a bit hyperbolic, but you get the idea.

Well, tonight, he and some coworkers consumed a vast quantity of beer to celebrate the end of a project. The coworkers needed to be driven home, so I volunteered. My little car has a child seat in the back and SO didn’t want to take it out or force the two guys to huddle like teenage sweethearts in the aforementioned tiny backseat, so he said I was going to drive the truck. I balked for a minute because it feels like that beast is driving me and not the other way around, but he insisted so I relented. After driving down the dark road for a minute or so, I have to admit it wasn’t that bad. The cool wind was whipping through the cab and some OutKast came on the radio. People saw the huge beast coming and promptly moved out of the way. I dropped off the guys successfully and my only mishap was running over a beer bottle that I didn’t see bc that monster truck is so frickin’ high off the ground. Don’t ask me about parking it, though…that’s an adventure for another day.

For today’s prompt, write about a time when someone pushed you to do something you didn’t really want to do, and it ended up being okay after all.