Uncrushed beer cans fit within the curves of the wheel wells leading up to a pile at the tailgate. Every beer from Busch to Natural Light lies around and the sour stench is emanating. It is a wonder the driver has not been pulled over, but, even at that cost, none will ever be intentionally thrown out. Instead, they will fly out one at a time littering the curves of the dirt roads. Sticky trickles of beer leak through the wheel wells, first heavily then thinly, leading up to a pile of leaves crowding the right corner closest to the cab. A wrench is lost in the autumn leaves. Cold, rainy nights have coated the wrench a nasty, orange rust to add to the sticky, brown beer.
This wrench belonged to the toolbox. An old Coleman toolbox, as wide as the truck, fits snuggly inside the bed against the back of the cab. The top is wider than the truck bed overlapping either side of the truck. The box's diamond-plate design gleams shades of silver. The right corner facing is dented from a home run baseball, and about a foot left of the small dented corner is a black lock that resembles a button. A key belongs to this lock, yet it has not ever been used. The circular lock sits on the face of a square, silver latch. Upon pulling the latch, the top immediately opens with two mini suspension poles holding the top up and back. These two outer poles nearly hold the wide top at a right angle and the box stays wide open like this until it is, in many cases, slammed shut. At the bottom of the toolbox lays a burgundy and navy plaid blanket folded over once to fit the inside of the rectangular base. .
Twelve-packs of Bud Light fill half of the box. In the other half, a long, black Mossberg shotgun has been carefully placed on its side with shells of ammo beneath it. The rest of the toolbox is a showcase of knives, bandanas, and animal calls strewn around. Tools are not found down inside of this mountain-man's treasure box.
