Big Red Truck  
When I was young, a child still
My dad worked in the fields
Of our farm.  He toiled
Away with his workers all day
Harvesting sod. It all would load
Onto the big red truck.

On Wednesdays at church he would
Drive the big red church straight
From the fields.  I always begged
Him to let me ride home with him,
And he would smile and give in.

The big diesel engine would rev up
And I would bounce on my oversized
Seat. The smell of the diesel exhaust,
And the sound of the truck was
Haven to me.