Today’s post is by a friend who allowed me to use her Bronco as a charactor in one of my novels.
Arriving after football practice at my son’s high school, I slipped out to switch seats so he could drive home, when one of his teammates waved at me. “He just likes your truck, mom.”
Ahh yes…the beastly dinosaur, a 1996 Bronco. My Broncosaurus. I’ve become known for my truck. Male SUV lovers drool over it. I’ve had Porsche keys tossed to me in trade for the extinct Ford. But like my husband told the salesman who begged us to trade it when he was dealing for his pick-up, “You’ll have to pry them from her cold, dead hands!”
The guy who instilled my love of the Bronco at seventeen was a playa in the worst way, but at least I found a faithful truck for the time served. Since then, I’ve owned two.
Because the Bronco as afforded me such notoriety, I couldn’t pass up the chance when Dani want to cast the “Broncosaurus” in her hot beach read, Hot as Blazes.