Just after lunch the other day, a colleague poked her head in my office and asked, “who owns the red truck out in the parking lot?”

“What red truck?" I asked, " No one here... why?”

“It has balls hanging off the back.”

"Balls?"

"Yeah, you know. Truck testicles."

Heads turned. At this moment, every employee within earshot rushed to the window to get a look, then moved to the window in the other room to get a better look. 

I'm not a cultural anthropologist, but the only place I had ever seen a moving violation that vulgar was in a rural area of the deep south. I imagined that the worship of truck testicles was the southern equivalent to the spiritual practices of an isolated, primitive civilization. 

And that's when we began debating where the tradition may have started. Did it have something to do with ranchers and cattle out west? Or was it really just redneck wishful thinking?

With no action in the parking lot, the novelty wore off and the group dispersed. We considered taking bets on what the driver of such an endowed truck might look like. I was willing to place my money on one of the characters from Deliverance (1972). The mystery was solved a few minutes later. Employees from all four corners of the office ran back to the window to catch a glimpse as two men dressed in sleeveless tees adorned with bright logos for a heating and air conditioning (or was it plumbing?) business approached the truck. One had a scraggly ponytail. The other sported (not surprisingly) a mullet. 

And with the truck's larger-than-life appendage swinging, they drove off, never knowing how they had relieved the boredom of an otherwise monotonous day at the office.