Who’d own a ute?

Recently I sold my big Ford sedan and bought a nice little Toyota ute, it seemed like a good idea seeing as there’s just me in the house these days and a ute is very handy to have.
It all went well for a few months, and I learned some things about utes and about people. Firstly, owning a ute means everyone will be calling you up every time they need to pick up or drop off something. I’ve had people wanting to put everything in there from oily car engines to fridges and even horse soil… and I've mostly resisted the urge to comply.
But I recently had a trip to the state capital for a few days and the ute was a complete pain in the ass!
Every time I parked it somewhere I came back to find the tarp lifted and the ute searched for booty. (pirate talk not ghetto lingo)
My huge toolbox lives chained and locked across the tray and is covered by the tarp, one night they even had a go at removing the entire thing. They tried the lock, tried the chain, tried the mounts then gave up and tried to remove the whole box.
Every time I left the ute somewhere I had to move all the stuff from the back and stuff it all into the cab so I could lock it up, putting it all back later so I could drive it again.
This is where my sick sense of humor kicked in and I started looking for ways to ‘use’ this extra attention.
I invented a new and novel to get rid of rubbish, you just pack it into a store bag with a few rocks for weight. The bigger the stores name the better, I had one from an expensive boutique coffee shop packed with two days carefully folded rubbish and a couple of rocks from the motel garden. Sure enough somewhere along my travels that day someone was kind enough to remove the bag from the back of the ute.

City people can be nice like that sometimes…



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