By Mike Gordon
Advertiser Staff Writer

It's OK if you want to call me a spoiled husband. Life is a balance of responsibilities and rewards.

Scratch my back and I'll do yours. You cook, I'll clean. If you buy me underwear, I'll mow the yard.

I'm comfortable with that. This is how men and women have co-existed for generations.

And this is why I need a pickup truck.

It's simple logic, actually.

For nearly all of our marriage, whenever Mrs. G. and I bought a new car, Mrs. G. took possession. She got the keys, the new-car smell, the fawning admiration of her car-loving friends.

I always got the car with the high mileage, the dents and the crusted-over food stains my daughters left in the back seat.

Well, enough already. It's my turn. I've earned this. I've sacrificed. I take out the rubbish. I leave the seat down. I've eaten the leftovers no one wants.

My reward here? Not much, really.

A 4-wheel drive (just because), with racks to carry stuff like a one-man canoe or sheets of plywood, a CD player and air-conditioning for my after-soccer-coaching-B.O. And it's gotta be red. With a bed liner so you can nonchalantly throw things in the back.

Mrs. G. can drive it any time she wants. She has my personal guarantee.

My desire for a truck is not completely rational. There are other vehicles, cheaper ones, that may offer greater value. Ask me if I care. This is a visceral need. Something I can feel in my gut or somewhere near there.

To be sure, not every man wants a truck. Some call it an acquired taste, like really strong coffee or tequila.

The dirty little secret here is that until I met Mrs. G., I never wanted a truck. She inspired me.

Way back before we had children, before we got married, before we became responsible adults who fell asleep before 10 p.m., Mrs. G. convinced me to buy my first brand-new car, which was not a car at all, but a truck. It cost $6,500.

This was a natural suggestion on her part. Being the daughter of a long-haul-trucker-turned-contractor, Mrs. G. was well-acquainted with dented, dirty, dependable trucks in the driveway.

But becoming a mother colored her thinking on this subject. At some point, she forgot how practical a truck can be for busy families.

There are so many possibilities. They can haul lumber for home remodeling, take rubbish to the dump, move unwieldy possessions across the landscape.

I've told her: Think of all the groceries you can put in the back if you buy the extended bed.

Her response: I want a Volvo station wagon.

Clearly, something has to be done. A compromise which does not involve me behind the wheel of a mini-van.

This isn't an emergency, but hey, the car I'm driving now has topped 130,000 miles. It's not getting any younger.

And neither am I.

Help our harried reporter with his quest. Send comments to Mrs. G. at whymikeneedsatruck@hotmail.com. Reach Mike Gordon at mgordon@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8012.