The world looks different when you ride in the back of a truck.

I was helping mom move a desk today, and they brought up the old white Ford to the house. As we scooted the furniture into place in the back, I volunteered to sit with it for the short ride to my Aunt's house.

The sun was still on the curve to it's zenith, and was splashing lemon yellow light over the entire valley. I sat on the metal wheel well, arms extended to keep the desk in place. Really, it was heavy enough that it wouldn't have slid... but I just wanted to freewheel down the road like a kid again.

Wind in my hair, sun on my face... I remembered the days of loading up in the back of the truck with kids, dogs, beach towels and coolers. We'd ride for 45 minutes getting beaten by the wind and loving every minute of it as we made our way to the lake.

Today I felt a stirring of those days. Neighbors out on their porch waved at me. I looked around at the mountains and breathed in deep. The heavy rain the day before was still scenting the air with a trace of pine and earth.

Everybody should climb into the back of a truck and ride down an old country road sometime. No rush... just 'toodle along', like my grandma used to say. Makes life slow down, even if for just a few moments. It's like the sound of creeky screen doors in the evening, and the taste of lemonade under hot July sun. It just makes life better, somehow.