This morning began most unusually, not least of which because I was driving this truck for the first time in real traffic.   And what traffic there was!  5:56 am, the F150's clock duly informed me, and already Marcos Highway in Marikina was clogged solid!  I checked my own watch; the clock was correct. 

At this point of the highway we usually had to merge 90 degrees from standstill into traffic that blitzes by at 90 km/h or more.  Today, we had a different kind of merging problem.  How to join the highway traffic when those darned jeepneys stick together so tightly even Palito, rest his soul, couldn't have slipped through. With a little intimidation and some fancy footwork (hey, only two pedals!), we managed to squeeze in.  I guess when the jeepney drivers believe that "my vehicle will sustain more damage than your vehicle" they do give way. 

We also had to turn the truck 180 degrees into a turnoff from the highway, with traffic surrounding the truck on all sides like an ameba about to ingest its food.  I discovered that it's rather difficult to change lanes in bumper-to-bumper traffic.  I couldn't squeeze into a space the way I would in a Corolla.  Keeping others out of your lane, though, is much easier.  After all, when car drivers can only see an endless expanse of blue metal through their window, they can't push you around.

"You will get the shock of your lives when you reach Katipunan Road," warned Traffic Angel Pia from her overhead transportation.  Couldn't agree more.  Seems that the remains of some saint were being displayed in the Sta. Clara convent, and devoted Catholics that we are, we just couldn't resist turning the whole Katipunan avenue into a parking lot.  And devoted public servants that the Quezon City officials were, they were not prepared for this influx of people, and we had to crawl in the one lane that was still moving. 

We got to Greenhills just in time-for breakfast!  I parked it near another Ford behemoth, the Club Wagon.  It's one of the few vehicles that when you park beside it, do not make the F150 look huge. 

Taking advantage of the near-empty parking lot, I snapped a few photos.  I also gauged the reaction of passersby as they could clearly see the truck among the empty spaces.  I was surprised that even the Greenhills morning taichi practitioners, who don't seem to bat an eyelid to anything, took notice of the truck and commented on it as they walked by.

"Yes, that's the F150…big, isn't it?"

"That's the biggest selling vehicle in the States."

Yup. They knew what this truck was.

After breakfast, I drove to a bank, then to a manufacturing plant in Mandaluyong.  The security guards at these two places, who had paid my previous vehicles no heed suddenly snapped to attention.  Heck, they even helped me park.  I don't think they were nervous that I might hit other cars.  It's just that the truck does foster a sense of goodwill among "spectators," particularly security guards.  I suppose it's the sort of friendly interest that a New Beetle generates, except at twice the scale.

Seeing that I had some free time before my lunch meeting, I decided to drop by Ethan Allen on Pioneer Street in Mandaluyong.  I've been eyeing some of their great-looking furniture, and with the F150's long truck bed, who knows?  I might take home a couch!  They did have some items that I liked and were reasonably priced.  However, with the intermittent rain and the F150's open truck bed, I decided to schedule a delivery by closed van instead.  Better not to take any foolish risks.

Thursday Night / Jason

It wasn't easy to pack four passengers along with five badminton rackets, five bags, jugs of water and various other everyday accoutrements into the truck, but they all fit, barely. 
The cabin between the dash and the front seats is actually a large expanse of empty space, and we stuffed a lot of bags in this area.

Thankfully, only one person was the bulky type, and he fit comfortably into the front seat.  He enjoyed his ride in the F150 and after a few minutes through traffic, remarked, "The only vehicle more intimidating that this would be an M1 A1 Abrams tank!"

The other three were petite women (girls?) who squeezed into the jump seat.  Actually 2/3 of the jump seat, as we folded the 1/3 to serve as a shelf for the bags.  Yes, it was uncomfortable, and yes, the back seat had no headrest, no thigh support and a pathetic excuse of a seatback.  But the girls loved it, too.  There's something about this truck that attracts women.  Maybe that's why he got one…