“Dogs love trucks.” I will forever remember the Japanese man in those great Nissan commercials from the ’90s. He wasn’t wrong. My dog, Seven, certainly did go crazy for trucks. She rode in the bed of every pickup I owned: the Ford F250, the F150. She even made the jump to a diesel Ram. Over the past 14 years, that dog has gone everywhere with me in every kind of vehicle: motorcycles, cars, ATVs (jumped off one on her maiden voyage), boats (which she loved to poop on), excavators, mowers and airplanes.
Ah, airplanes. A magical vehicle, taking Seven and me to destinations markedly different from our point of departure. In the many trips we made by truck to racetracks in the southern states, she would feel the gradual change in temps at each rest stop on the interstate. But getting off a commercial flight in Costa Rica having departed JFK in the coldest month New York has to offer must have been bewildering to her. Maybe magical too.
