In my family’s garage, there once parked a fuel-powered five-wheeled self-unloading semi-enclosed cargo truck that could be called a “garage legend”, and it was definitely a “naughty fellow”. When my father was in the “corner maze” of the second-hand car market piled up with old vehicles, he took a fancy to it at a glance. It was as if he had discovered a long-buried treasure, and he happily brought it home. When it first arrived and drove into our home, its momentum was like a mutated mechanical monster rushing out from a science fiction disaster movie, exuding a unique aura that made people both surprised and amused.

In terms of appearance, it was like being randomly pieced together as a toy by a group of energetic little giants. The semi-enclosed cockpit was simply a shabby helmet that had been so roughly played with by children that it was worn askew on the head. In winter, the cold wind was like a sharp knife, frantically pouring in through all the cracks of the cockpit. Sitting inside, I felt like I was driving in an ice cellar in the Arctic, and my hands and feet were instantly numbed by the cold. I once teased my father, “Dad, does this truck think it’s an Antarctic research vehicle, helping us adapt to the polar environment in advance?”

Those five wheels each had their own “tricks”. They were of different sizes and had all kinds of strange patterns. When the truck was running, the sounds they made were all in a mess. Some wheels went “creak creak”, like the nagging of an old man complaining about life; some went “gurgle gurgle”, like the protest of a hungry stomach. Once, when we passed by a park, a group of young people who were rehearsing a band heard this sound. Surprisingly, they were inspired and immediately followed the rhythm, using the sound of the truck wheels as percussion music and playing a unique “wheel rock piece”. It attracted all the people walking around to come and watch. My father and I in the car almost laughed out of breath.

Speaking of its self-unloading function, it was simply a “crazy farce” that made people laugh. Once, my father hauled a full truckload of watermelons to the market for sale. After arriving at the market, my father pressed the unloading button, expecting to unload the goods smoothly. As a result, the “naughty” truck bed of this truck instantly activated the “crazy mode”. The truck bed first shook violently, just like an enraged bull, and then made a deafening “creak” sound, which was so loud that it was estimated to be able to shatter the windows within a few miles. Then, the truck bed rose slowly and crookedly. Before it had risen halfway, with a “bang”, it actually got stuck and stopped moving. Now, the watermelons were like a group of naughty children, rolling out of the truck bed one after another and rolling around all over the market, causing the people around to burst into laughter. My father was so anxious that he stomped his feet beside the truck, patting and shouting at the truck, “Ancestor, why are you so troublesome today? Just work properly for me!” The peddlers around who were setting up stalls helped pick up the watermelons while joking, “Is this truck of yours here to perform a comedy for the market?”

I remember once, we went to deliver donated supplies to a school in a remote mountainous area. The mountain road was narrow and rugged. The truck was like a drunkard walking on a tightrope, swaying from side to side when driving on it. I was sitting in the passenger seat and was jolted so much that I felt disoriented, as if I was on an endless crazy roller coaster. Suddenly, the truck made a sudden stop. Without any warning, I rushed forward, and my head almost hit the windshield. It turned out that a goat was standing in the middle of the road, staring at our truck curiously, seemingly full of doubts about this “huge monster”. My father helplessly honked the horn, but the goat remained unmoved and even slowly circled around the truck a few times, as if examining this outsider. When the goat finally left, we continued on our way. My father and I were both amused by this unexpected episode and laughed heartily all the way.

As time went by, this naughty truck gradually couldn’t keep up with the pace of life, and breakdowns occurred one after another. Although my father had always taken good care of it and often carried out maintenance on it, in the end, he had to send it to the scrap recycling station. Although it is no longer with us, those days full of joy and surprises that we spent with it will always remain in our memories. Maybe one day, in a wonderful dream, I can once again embark on a crazy journey full of unknown fun with it.