I could tell you about my drive to work today. I could write about how I couldn’t decide whether it would be responsible to eat a burger in the car or selfish to eat it at a table, in the restaurant, like a human. I could discuss my disappointment that the burger had mustard, when I clearly said no mustard. Or the dismay that surely I tried to mask when the thing came out because it had the mustard sticker on the paper, but I didn’t have time to send it back because, already, I was being selfish, and besides that, the bread would be good.

I could complain about the fries.

I could discuss the interesting thing that happened in the car one day last week. I hadn’t seen the sun all day, and then, just as whatever station I was listening to started playing the opening strings of a live version of Carolina In My Mind the sun finally appeared through the clouds to my left.

Now this is a magical James Taylor song. Always has been. But I knew it even more that particular day, because just as the live crowd faded at the end of the song the sun disappeared again. I didn’t see it any more during my drive.

And I could wax on about how all of that means that stretch of road may never be the same now. Which is silly because it is obviously different, coming and going, full of of wholly different emotions and textures and probably even with a different tire noise.

I could write about the class I had today, but I’ve had better ones.

So it turns out that I could write about several things.

But, instead, I’m going to share with you the funniest trailer hitch cover I’ve ever seen. I walked outside and saw a big truck with a giant sticker stretching across the top of the windshield: University of Parris Island. That’s where I was born. And the “university” there is the USMC base. Other stickers indicated the owner was a retired sergeant major.

So I walked around the back of the truck to see where this person was from. And I saw this:

The best part is the little tag that points out this is a replica, juuuuust in case anyone thought the driver might have decided to attach an actual Claymore to the truck. I wonder if that little plaque was required by law.

Turns out, you can buy them on Amazon. Just always read the directions.