Things I Just Don’t Fucking Understand: Fuck Trucks

Oh, Fuck Trucks. Dear Reader, what can I possibly say about Fuck Trucks that I haven’t already screamed into the abyss of my own, reasonably-sized vehicle while on the verge of an untimely and very messy death?

As with all TIJDFU, a disclaimer: I don’t give a shit what you do to and for yourself, but for the love of all that is good and holy, what the fuck are some of you fuckos thinking when it comes to the existence of others? Spoiler alert: you’re not!

Husband and I coined the term Fuck Truck after witnessing much, well, truck fuckery while living in Tampa, Florida, USA. (Sidenote: I really wanted to color the letters of USA red, white, and blue, but that doesn’t work on a white background, so please just imagine it that way. Also, please imagine them kind of flapping in the wind like the letters are on a flag. And there’s an eagle there. And also if you could just imagine the rest of this post that would save me a little bit of time (read: actually a surprisingly large amount of time considering the end product).) The abundance of Fuck Trucks in Tampa is overwhelming, but that may be due to the insanely dense population and the explosion of the average size of trucks over the time we lived there. But probably it’s just my keen ability to attract assholes, and the pervasiveness of toxic masculinity. Don’t worry, we’ll get there.

A loose definition of a Fuck Truck is as follows:

Fuck Truck
/fək trək/
noun: Fuck Truck; plural noun: Fuck Trucks

1. any vehicle with an attached bed that is disproportionately sized to the other vehicles on the road, has any number of superfluous embellishments, and has the potential to transport goods but is currently not

You’ve very likely seen one, probably as it came dangerously close to you in some manner. Maybe you admire them, maybe you even own one, or maybe, like me, you marvel at the fact that they exist because what the fuck have we done as a society?

Your standard Fuck Truck is too big, too loud (both visually and audibly), and too pretty to actually do any work. They usually need to be stepped up into (or in my case, a running jump is necessary), have an abundance of chrome accents and stickers/decals depicting the owner’s love of something typically unsavory, a visible underbelly from being “lifted,” and some way to pollute the atmosphere around it even more be that smoke stacks, extra headlights, or a train horn.

Now, if Husband and I see a truck that would otherwise qualify but it is doing work e.g. towing something, carrying tools or other large cargo, or is very dirty from clearly having worked, we don’t give it the Fuck Truck name (as if ANYONE gives a shit what we call their car). These trucks that are actually doing what a truck is intended to do also tend to not get in your way on purpose and threaten your life for fun, which brings me to the larger concept of the Fuck Truck. What doesn’t get conveyed in the above definition is how a Fuck Truck isn’t just a thing, but an attitude, a way of life for many. Fuck Trucks are easy to pick out by sight, but they too often come with very specific behaviors. The oversized rims and seven Punisher decals are a dead giveaway, but the fact the truck is parked diagonally across multiple spaces is unsurprising. When one chooses to change lanes without signaling or regard for the fact you are already in the exact spot they have decided they need to be in is another telltale sign. Or, my favorite, glancing in your rearview mirror to be greeted with the grate of one bearing down on you while you drive in the right-hand lane with two open lanes to your left while you’re already going ten miles per hour over the posted limit. Fuck Trucks are the perfect vehicle for assholes. This isn’t to say every Fuck Truck owner (Fuck Truckers) is an asshole, but the ratio of Fuck Truckers to assholes is very nearly 1:1.

What’s strange, or perhaps not, is how almost all new trucks are potentially Fuck Trucks. The size of them, and really all vehicles, is just increasing so damn much. I even bought an SUV myself (classed as a compact SUV), not to “keep up” but just to “keep alive” because I really like not just being “not dead” but retaining “full use of my limbs and brain.” It’s almost as if people don’t realize that when they get behind the wheel of any vehicle they have strapped themselves into a weapon that they have the potential to hurdle across the country at speeds that will completely obliterate the human body. Humans. Are. Idiots.

But why? Why does anyone need something that big just to go to and from work or the grocery store? It’s not cost efficient, environmentally friendly, typically convenient to maneuver, or above all necessary in any way. I get that when we make purchases, especially very large purchases, we want them to be for things we really like both in the thing’s use and aesthetics. That’s fair. But what drives (ha, get it?) people to desire the biggest, most destructive thing on the road?

I tried to liken it to coloring my hair because that’s the only lens I could see this through: it’s a thing I do that’s totally unnecessary and doesn’t benefit society in any way. I often color my hair wacky, unnatural colors, and people insist this is just for attention. I know better, so I thought perhaps I am being just as close-minded about Fuck Trucks? But the impact of dying one’s hair purple and driving a three-ton, rolling death machine are vastly different. While the cosmetic industry most definitely has a negative impact on the environment, I choose brands that strive for safety and are free of animal cruelty. The automobile industry and the subsequent impact of any individual driving something way bigger than needed is exponentially greater. Also, once my hair is purple, it literally does not affect any other person AT ALL. It doesn’t take up more parking spaces than it’s alloted, it doesn’t run anyone off the road, and frankly it doesn’t inspire me to be a total dickbag to other people. Yes, I feel good about having freshly dyed hair, I feel pretty and happy, but if anything that just makes me nicer to people, not act out like an entitled man-child.

There are, of course, explanations that delve into the deeply damaged psyches of the average American, and to be honest, this might not be a TIJDFU, this might be a TIUATFW (Thing I Understand All Too Fucking Well), but telling a Fuck Trucker these things won’t help them. Asking them might. So what the fuck, fuck truckers? What’s with the truck fuckery?


As an aside: I can appreciate the work, art, and passion that goes into these things, and if they’re used for shows, etc. that’s one thing, but the day-to-day use of something this large just seems SO incredibly inconvenient!