Pimp mah truck

I'll say one thing about the good people of the Miramichi: Some of them have a lawless sense of style. And no, that's not a typo.

Like this lad, Billy Reynolds, and his wheels.

A former garbageman by trade, Billy is a self-described packrat, and when he and his vehicle rolled into the paper the other day well, gosh, I had to go out there with a camera.


Here's the side of it. Literally every surface was covered in some way with some kind of knick knack, like this:


Those longish plastic things, one to the left of the elephant? They light up. There's a button on his dash, and a little remote attached to his key chain. The horn sounds like an ice cream man jingle.

Some of the stuff wasn't recognizable, like the many metal things welded to the hood:

Every damned surface. I didn't know what half the vehicle's ornaments were. Their function was esoteric. It would have taken, like, an hour to show me the full extent of the decades of work Billy did here. It was like Xzibit got high with Monty Python and took a joy ride to the Miramichi.

And, when Billy ran out of room on the car's body, there was always room for ... protrusions.

It think it was made of wood. I'd hate to think any of the additions were actually once real animals:


I've lived here for a year and a half. I have never, ever seen this contraption before. Never ever. He must live up river or down the bay or something.

I was impressed, and in awe.

Hm.

Maybe I should get started on that immigration application now.

You know ... the one that will let me get out here before I go mad. Or start re-decorating my car.