As our fully loaded Dodge truck meandered slowly up the Lewiston grade, my full stomach began to sing.
Yes, sing. It was as if my stomach was saying a heart-felt thank you.
That afternoon I had graciously given my stomach the gift of tacos and tamales. …and every single sample at Costco, but that is besides the point.
The point: I am now an advocate to taco vans(yes, vans) everywhere
In Lewiston, Idaho, across the way from Effie’s Burgers(also a dive) and kiddie-corner from Dairy Queen lies a completely sketchy van adorned with pictures, Christmas lights, and menus listed in Magic Marker. As you can imagine, it is not the normal place for me to eat–I am used to high quality dining. Fine dining if you will. My normal seat at Cougar Country would guffaw at me nearing the taco van(yes, van) dubbed Cecy’s Tacos.
I approached the van reluctantly. Noting the not-so-scenic scenery that surrounded it and the bargain-brand napkins fluttering on the table.
As I ordered (a Walla Walla taco), I began to develop a crush on the little taco van. It was like an ugly baby, or a misshapen substitute, or my Clark’s wallabee boots.
Once I sank my decreasingly-straight teeth into that taco, complete with avocados, shredded beef, and onions, my elementary-school crush became a full-blown romance.
I wanted to take that taco van out to dinner and a movie of its choice.
I wanted to share headphones with that taco van, blasting cliché love ballods and various Bruce Springsteen songs, and walk (hands in back-pockets) shamelessly through the mall.
I wanted to love that taco van every single day.
God bless that taco van.
Merry Christmas eve-eve!