You know what you do when you’re starting to draw an awesome truck and it doesn’t come out quite right and instead starts to look more like a toaster? You roll with it. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be an awesome truck. Maybe it was meant to be a Toast-Mobile–a Toast-Mobile that roams the world’s most dangerous wooden bridges, strung between treacherous mountain peeks. This Toast-Mobile plays by his own rules. He’s a bad-ass toaster with a spoiler and no fear, and when he wants to, he turns bread into toast.
Which brings me to the artist. He’s another kid who didn’t have it great at home. He didn’t have it great at school either. When he was in junior high he was one of those kids that people wanted to strangle (I may have been one of those people) because he literally would not stop talking. Of course he matured as he moved from junior high to high school. He learned to shut up, occasionally. Unfortunately many in his class, mostly the girls, and this was a class with a lot mean girls, continued to treat him with disdain. Obviously this said more about the mean girls than it did this kid. But it was awful to witness this on a fairly regular basis. What was great about witnessing this on a fairly regular basis was seeing the grace with which this kid handled the ugliness. He continued to treat people well, something he had done since junior high. He didn’t strike back at his abusers (much). Somehow he seemed to understand that dogs are going to bark, but it doesn’t mean anything. He mostly spent time with those who treated him well. He occasionally came to me for a good vent, but those didn’t last long. I’m really proud of the young man he turned in to, not that I had anything to do with it.
He’s currently in the navy and seems to be doing well. Here’s hoping that when he’s on shore leave, and he and his buddies stumble into the local tatoo parlor (you know how navy guys are), that he stumbles out with Toast-Mobile proudly driving across his chest.
(He’s not my kid so I can wish stuff like that.)