a conversation about transportation with Sherry’s four-year-old nephew who lives in Utopia, the land time forgot
Nephew: What kind of truck do you drive?
Me: I don’t drive a truck.
Nephew: Well then how do you get to work?
Me: I ride my bike.
Nephew: [facial expression indicates mind is blown]
To be fair, in Utopia, everything with four wheels is called a truck, except things that I call “four-wheelers”, which the Utopians call bikes.
