AN: Been watching Battlestar lately - so thinking, talking toasters are on my mind… why not the Silverado? These characters are not mine.

Hey! I'm Loretta, Tim Riggins' truck. A 1987 Chevy Silverado, nothin' fancy, plain black, 135,000 miles and goin' strong. Like a rock? Hell, yeah.

I'm actually older than Tim by a few years. He named me after one of his favorite singers, Loretta Lynn. His brother Billy bought me used off Garrity Motors' lot and drove me until Tim got his license.

It was a relief when Tim started drivin' me. Billy was tough on me, especially slamming the doors. Ouch. And he ran my oil down low til I was real thirsty.

Tim takes pretty good care of me. Changes my filters regularly, my oil, even gives me an octane boost every now and then. Washes me weekly and waxes me every few weeks. It's only been a couple years now, but he's reliable.

Sure, I got cracked mirrors, dings, dents, and one of my cargo boxes needs a new hinge, but he's attached to me. He talks to me all the time like I'm his best friend. Boy's got good karma despite being a trouble magnet.

Hmm, then again, there's the bullet holes I got when he was hightailing away from some crooks… nothing terminal though. Call it character.

He'd ridden in me lots before with Billy drivin'. Mainly to school and home, practice, games, parties. Once in awhile, Billy used to take Tim rabbit hunting --Tim'd sit in the back with his rifle and take shots at anything that moved in those big fields. Bagged one, that's it.

Tim'd drive to the bluff with a bucket of golf balls and a driver and tee off again and again. Helped him to vent his anger. He's mellowed recently, gotta say.

His favorite foods, at least that he ate in my presence? Chicken fingers, burgers, fries. Chocolate shakes, and of course, beer. Amazing how well he drives loaded. Occasionally a fifth of Jack in my glove box, but mainly good old beer.

He's been stopped by cops probably five times by now, but only gotten tickets twice. Doesn't hurt that the cops like Dillon Panthers, 'specially when they win.

Music? What's my name? Right. Country mostly, plus some rock like Nickelback or AC/DC, and some crappy stuff like Gwen Stefani. Tim can't sing for beans. Kinda cute when he tries, though.

One of my cargo boxes is converted into a cooler. Plus the Playmate on wheels in my truck bed. Next to the folding lawn chairs, a chaise, and blankets. Some bungees, ropes, jumper cables. An old boom box.

I lost track of the number of girls he made out with on my bench seat. I'm just wide enough for him to lie sideways with his feet on my windowsill, which means a couple lying down can't really be seen unless you walk up to my window. He's slept in me plenty, too. On road trips, or when he's had nowhere else to go…

Back to girls. Oh, the sounds I've heard. Unearthly. And the rocking! Lordy. My shocks hurt just thinking about it.

In my glovebox? Hmm… besides the paperwork and, believe it or not, my manual, there's protection. You know, rubbers. And some handy wipes. Get resupplied pretty frequently. After he uses 'em, they go in a trash bag he keeps under the seat. He's actually pretty neat.

How many girls has he really been with on my watch? Maybe seven, eight. Not that many, really. And there's my truck bed… put down an old blanket, and you've got a perfect, if hard… well, bed. That's another four gals, easy. Some crossover there, of course… lost track after a few. Boy gets around.

Was I relieved when he took the Stratton sisters inside; that would not have been fun. Guess a threesome needs more space than my modest cab, thankfully. Too much for my old 8 cylinder to take, and my old chassis. Also T-M-I.

He likes variety, aside from some intensive time with Tyra (she thought it was steady, but…). Can't say I blame Timmy. His parents ditched him when he was young, and he looks for comfort with any pretty girl who's interested in him, which is… well have you looked at him? That's one thing, I never get tired of lookin' at him.

A highlight was definitely when he drove me as a float in the Panther parade. They decorated me with blue and yellow streamers and wash-off paint, and a bunch of players sat in my bed as Billy drove real slow down Main Street. Tim sat on top of my cab, legs dangling over my bed. What a day.

And it's kinda fun when Jason rides with us. His chair goes in back, and he just sits perfectly still up front. He's a sweet guy, always giving Tim good advice. That's not to say they haven't had their differences. And then the times with Lyla and Jason… the three of them have some history. Humans are so complicated.

But lately, it's just been Garrity. Lyla Lyla Lyla. He is whipped over her. I ain't never seen Timmy truly in love like this. They argue, for sure, but she sees the good side of him that not many do. But it's there. And her dad – he was my dealer!

I am nervous though – Tim's been going to the motorcycle dealership lately and looking at a bike. He's got some money now, so my days with him may be numbered. Hope not, he's been a doll. Ideal, in fact. Like a rock.