Ego Vivo Chapter One

"How much?" "W-what?" "How much? How much do you want for the truck?" A thumb gestured over the shoulder towards the nightmare that had been parked on his lot for 3 or 4 intermittent months. "Y-you want to b-buy it? Really?" He was getting excited now. This woman was probably gullible, and stupid as shit, as with most drivers who stumbled upon the used-truck lot. "Err yeah… That's kinda why I'm asking. How much do you want?" "Well, ahh, don't you want to test-drive it first? Take a look?" She raised a brow, "Nobody ever taught you how to wheel and deal, did they?" "'Scuse me?" "Nothing!" She replied hurriedly. Better be nothing! He thought.

"It's a good looking truck… The paint is ugly, but I mean, I would think a truck like that would be well taken care of. I should guess that you're a reputable dealer, are you not?" She asked with a snicker. "Oh, absolutely! The best in the area-" The standards must be lower than I thought around here. "-and some of the best prices for only the best trucks!" He was lying through his teeth and they both knew it. She simply stared at him, unconvinced, and turned back towards the truck. "Right… Well, how 'bout I go get you some keys and we can take a ride in 'er." She ignored the hinted double meaning that was implied by the suggestive tone in his voice.

Men. She huffed mentally. Hnh. It is a good looking truck… Why hasn't somebody jumped on it? That part was the dealer's little secret, though it was quite an elephant in the room, amongst the 6 or 7 guys who'd purchased it previous to now. They came along, bought it, and within a week, two at most, returned, frantically demanding a refund of their money. It was possessed, many claimed. It had jerked the wheel out of their hands, driven itself where it pleased, disappeared from truck stops on numerous counts, and left their loads in unknown parking, among other things. Quite plainly, it was a problem child. The dealer, Rick, was ready to take the lot lizard of a truck to a crusher and rid himself of what was, without a doubt, the most problematic vehicle he'd ever purchased at a public auction.

"Here are your keys." He stated, holding out a ring with two keys, and a small emblem, with a weird, box-face logo on one side, and the classic Peterbilt on the other. She took them promptly, and moved towards the truck.


Something about this truck was intriguing… Maybe it was just the paintjob, (or rather, what was left of it) or the general rarity of this style of the model, or the fact that it was different from the rest in the gravel parking lot. I couldn't stop coming back to it. I'd circled the lot at least twice, looking at all the trucks, but I always came back to this one. It was so eerie, the way it looked. The paint was dulled, and chipping and flaking in many spots, and the overcast weather, and looming rain clouds overhead made it that much duller seeming. But it was like I could imagine its glory days, glowing flames licking off the hood and across the body, hauling ass from place to place, like a deep blue Smokey and the Bandit rig, minus the famous country singer and his lazy pup behind the wheel. All I knew now, was that I wanted to get in the truck and drive like Bandit himself. But I didn't. I wasn't about to get in with this creep, Rick, the owner of the so-called dealership.

In reality, the place was a bone yard, a final resting place for a bunch of rigs that would likely never leave the lot, except it they were destined for a crusher or a blowtorch. I twirled the keys on my finger, as I approached the truck, slowly, as though I was approaching a skittish horse. I flicked a glance back at Rick, then hesitantly unlocked the truck. It wouldn't be the first time I found something seriously friggin' weird in a truck. The topper on my list, so far, was dead animals - squirrels, raccoons, a skunk, a few rabbits, all of them hanging inside the truck. But what about this truck? The door handle popped and I opened the door, taking a large step back, just in case.

Amazingly, it was normal. Clean, in fact, despite the look of disrepair on the outside. Leather seats that matched the paint, a dark wood on the dash and immaculate chrome detailing. I hauled myself up into the driver's seat, and immediately sighed. Soft seat was damned soft. I could've fallen asleep on the spot if it weren't for the oh-so-creepy owner. "Does she start?" "Huh?" Was this guy deaf, or what? "The truck. Does. It. Start?" "Oh! Err, yeah, I think so…" I rested one hand on the steering wheel, and threw the key in the ignition. "Well… Here goes nothing, I guess." One foot in the clutch, the other hovering above the gas. First try, barely a choking cough. The second, same. The third, with a few revs of the gas, and I was met with the thunderous growl that I'd become so familiar with, with these trucks. I grinned wide, and patted the wheel and gave the dash a good look. All the gauges leapt to life, lit up, and the needles rose to their appropriate places. I smirked. I flicked over to the radio. No power. Huh… I tapped the tiny screen, played with the volume dial with no luck, squinting at it, in search of a power button. "The radio don't work." "What?" I mentally face palmed. Was this guy paying any attention? "The radio doesn't work. There's no power button, and it ain't lit up." "Oh… Huh…" I snorted. "Well, ahh, wanna take 'er for a drive?" I grimaced slightly. I really didn't trust this guy, and honestly, I just wanted to take the friggin' thing home already! "Nahh… I wanna talk numbers." "Well then… How 'bout we head on in, and talk it over? Get out of the cold?" "Sure." I mumble, killing the engine and climbing out, handing the keys back.


The trailer that served as the office was small, tight, and very cramped. Dropped ceilings, few windows, and numerous filing cabinets made the small space claustrophobically tight. There was a desk immediately in front of the door, and cheap plastic chairs against the same wall as the door. There was an older woman seated behind the desk, who looked up from a book, to stare at me, her expression screaming boredom, like she would've been thrilled to watch paint dry or grass grow. I nodded silently to her, and followed Rick around her desk, into what seemed to be his office, though it was tight enough to call a walk-in closet, instead of an actual room. He rounded a metal desk, that reminded me of my school years. A teacher's desk. That's original… Not. He gestured to a chair across from the desk, as he sat in one behind it. "Coffee?" He offered. Maybe he wasn't quite as much of a sleaze ball as I thought… I shrugged, "Ehh, sure." "It's out there." He stated, thumbing back out towards the rest of the office. "Oh." Jerk. I left for a brief moment to retrieve the life-fluid and returned quickly with a mighty cheap foam cup in hand.

"So what are you thinking? What price range?" I started for him. "Well… Ahh… Hmm…" He mumbled to himself, tapping his fingers against his chin. After a few minutes of hmm's and huh's and buhmaybe's, he replied, "Twenty-eight-hundred." Just as I was taking a sip. I nearly choked on it. "T-twenty-eight-hundred?" I exclaimed. Are you forgetting a zero in there or something? Twenty-eight-hundred. As in, a two, an eight, and two zeroes?" "Yeah… Why? You willing to pay more?" He said. Too late now, dumb-ass. "No! No, I was just… Making sure…" I sipped my coffee, in an effort to wave off the sudden outburst. "Three thousand dollars…" I murmured under my breath again. "You take cash?" He perked up immediately. "Yeah! Err- yes. We do. But there's a no-returns policy. No returns, no refunds, no complaints." "I'm down with that." I responded, smiling. We both stood up, shook hands, and he pointed towards the woman at the desk. "Go talk to Lynn, and she'll pull some paperwork and then we can get you on your way!" I nodded, and moved back to the front of the tiny office. The woman, Lynn, looked up from her book. "Hi." I said shortly, flashing a smile, and half-waving. "What can I do for ya?" "$2800! Ima pull the title and registration!" came the shout from Rick, who then exited his office. He opened one drawer on a filing cabinet, pulled out the corresponding sheets of paper, and placed them on the edge of the secretary's already cluttered desk. The phone rang, and said woman promptly picked it up, with a sharp. "HELL-O!" and followed with soft mhmm's and uh-huh's. Must run in the family, I thought to myself. Rick pulled open another drawer on a different cabinet, pulling out other papers. Lynn snapped at whoever was on the other end of the phone. Rick slammed the drawer shut. A pile of papers on the edge of Lynn's desk tipped and scattered, prompting a fight -more of a chicken squabble- between them. I awkwardly rubbed the back of my head, and stepped back, parking myself in one of the plastic chairs. It finally ended with a clipped reply from Rick, and Lynn ended up crouched down in her heels, picking up the papers. I grimaced. Rick snapped my attention back to him, waving the title in my face. I smiled, and stood back up, taking the title, and glancing over it. God help me that this jerk doesn't rob me blind with a counterfeit title or registration. I nodded, with a shrug, and pulled out my wallet. I had just purchased myself a new -new to me, at least- truck.


When Rick disappeared back into his office, to sign his half, Lynn rolled her eyes, and pulled open one of the file cabinet drawers behind her. She grasped the glasses hanging around her neck and pushed them up, onto the tip of her nose. "So what'd ya buy?" She inquired. "The red and blue Petey." I responded with a real, glowing smile.

She suddenly looked back at me, intensely, as if I'd grown two extra heads, doubled limb count, and fish scales. "What?" I asked, startled. "Oh, nothing. Nothing…" She said loudly with a glance over her shoulder, and then dropped her voice to a whisper, looking back at me.

"He's been trying to get that thing off the lot for forever. Like, three or four months!"


"A bunch of people bought it, and came back within a couple of weeks, complaining and demanding a refund!"

Oh dear…

"A couple of them said the truck drove off and left them behind. Left their cargo miles away from where the driver was stranded, and came back on its own!"


"Supposedly it started talking to them! It also changed into a monster! But I think they're just on crack."

Changed into a monster?

"And, it kept taking over, and driving to random places! With its driver inside!"

Fuck me.


The drive home was weird. Awkward, because I kept expecting something really bad to happen. But surprisingly calm. No haunted truck. No Maximum Overdrive. No dumping me out and driving off. Nothing. Nothing except the fuel gauge, that dinged at me when it came on, and scared the shit outta me. I glared at the small dial, wishing it to hover away from that foreboding E that spelled doom for so many, at the worst of times, and kept driving.

I got on the highway. Home wasn't far from that bone yard of a truck-lot, but I wanted to drop this beast off at my dad's shop. In the morning, I'd take a thorough look through the paperwork sitting in the passenger seat, detailing the background on the VIN and plate, and even pictures -well, one picture- of this truck, back before it'd had all hell beaten out of it. Thinking of the picture, I began a mental calendar. Today was Sunday. If my crew and I could fix any mechanical problems by Tuesday, I could get it headed towards being repainted by Wednesday, and hopefully out by next Sunday at the latest. By then, any and all paperwork could be checked out, transferred, registered, etc., and I could get on the road with 'er. If all went to plan, I could probably make the purchase price back by or before two weeks from now. Parts and paint would be easily five grand, minimum. I could make that money in about another two weeks, so one month from now, I would hopefully be into the pure profit. From then on, at a continuous rate of at least one run every week, $500 per run after fuel costs, I'd make two thousand a month, twenty-four-grand a year, and all of it would go into the shop.

Suddenly, the engine gave a sharp cough, and began spluttering along, the solid 70 mph I was going drooping suddenly to 55, then steadily to 50, and then 45. I panicked slightly and flipped on a blinker, pulling over. Within about two minutes, the truck slowed to a halt and the engine quit. "Damnit!" I snapped, slapping the steering wheel with my palm. I quickly climbed out, and got on the phone.


He was quite satisfied with his results. He'd practically forced her into submission, and shown her just a preview of just how much of a pain in the ass he would be. Of course, she didn't know it was him doing it. Probably never would, if he could help it. She'd be, without a doubt, returning him to that Primus-forsaken lot before so much as two weeks was out. Of course, he wasn't aware of the deal she'd made with Rick, either. He returned his attention to her conversation going on over the phone.


"-Yeah. Yep. Thanks dad. Yeah. Love you too. Bye." I sighed and turned back to the truck. "You sure are causing me some mighty trouble already, ya know." I muttered. I looked back down at my hand, where I'd written my next call, and dialed it into my phone. "Interstate Towing. Nate speakin'." "Hey Nate. It's Diane." "Oh, hey Dee! How are ya?!" "Eh… I've been better. Any chance you're still in your rig?" "Err, yeah, why? You need a tow?" "Erhm, yeah, I do." I replied, shyly. "I got this new truck. It's a '94 Pete. The thing's a real beater. I got on the highway and she died on me." "Yeah, ah'll be right out! Where are ya?" "Ahh…" I backed up next to the guardrail, searching for a mile marker. "I'm a little after 84-point-4. It's a little ways after the overpass." "Okay. Cool. I'll see ya in a bit." "Thanks. Talk to ya soon." "Yup." "Bye." I snapped my phone shut, and smirked at the truck. "How do ya like me now, truck?" I stuck my tongue out at it. I leaned up against the grill, and watched the last of the setting sun disappear between the hilly horizon and the angry, dark storm clouds that were preparing to piss all over the majority of New England.

Ten minutes later, it started raining. Nothing major, just a light mist that was faint, but cool. I got ready to get back in the truck while I waited. A minute or two later, the mist became real drops. I went to get in. And was denied. The door was locked. I know I hadn't locked the truck. Meanwhile, the keys were in it. So now I was locked out, my keys were locked in, and it was starting to rain. I yanked on the latch real good, to no avail. Yanking harder, the latch suddenly released, sending me on my ass, into the mostly empty highway. The small chrome handle quickly snapped back, and I heard the lock click back into place. Quickly pushing myself off the ground, I gawked at the truck. "You bastard freaking truck!" I shouted at it. Trying at the door again, still with no luck. The rain drops were getting fatter, and falling more rapidly, and I resorted to simply cursing at the truck, and sat in front of it.


I was soaked, by the time Nate pulled up. I was sitting on the cab steps, trying to hide under the mirror, which was virtually impossible, considering how thin it was. I was sopping wet, cold, and annoyed. I was quick to get up and meet Nate most of the way to his truck. "Hey Dee, how- What the hell happened?!" He was startled by my thoroughly rained-upon self. I had my arms folded and hands tucked under, trying to keep most of my heat in. "I, ahh… I got locked out…" I muttered. He nodded hesitantly. "The keys are in it?" "Yeah. Keys are in it, but the door locked itself." He let out a soft laugh, and smiled at me. "Alright. Come on, kid. Go ahead and get in. I got the heat turned up already." He softly patted my back and nudged me towards the truck. His fluorescent jacket and the reflective vertical stripes glowed in the light put off by all of the amber lights running the length of his truck. I flashed a smile, nodded, and immediately climbed into the passenger seat of his truck, melting into the warm interior.

A few minutes later, the tow-operator returned and climbed in. "Yeah, she's definitely locked up good. I'm gonna hook 'er up." He grumbled, tossing a pack of lock picks into the door pocket. I nodded. "Where you bringin' 'er?" "Dad's. I was hoping I'd be able to get it home, on what fuel was in it. That thing had an eighth of a tank when I left, so I guess I'll be replacing some fuel lines." I mumbled. "So how much was it?" "Twenty eight." "Thousand?" "Nah. Hundred." "What?! Twenty-eight-hundred dollars?! Was the guy on crack!?" I laughed at his response. "Pot. Crack. Either or. I wouldn't be surprised either way." I said, with a snort and a smirk, as Nate started backing up, and returned to the torrential downpour outside the Kenworth's cab.


I waved from the open bay door as Nate drove off, leaving me and the truck alone at the shop. After the neon yellow truck had disappeared into the walls of rain, I shut the door of the bay and turned to the truck. "So…" I started, to the truck. "Now what? You gonna run me over and make me a permanent smear on the door? Or leave me behind like your other drivers?" I shook my head, and tried to open the door. Unlocked. I stared at the truck, as the door swung open at my pull, appalled. I know that door was locked when Nate came to pick me up. He even said it himself that it was! I buried my face in my hands for a moment, before looking back up into the cab. It was the same as I'd left it. Pulling myself up, I saw it was exactly the same as I'd left it, except that the keys that were now in the ignition. I know I had pulled them out. I'd pulled them out and set them on the floor of the cab. I sighed, and grabbed the paperwork off the passenger seat. "No refunds, returns or complaints… Big mistake, girly…" I murmured to myself, shutting the garage door, and heading for the office.


"So what'd ya get, kid?" Came my dad's voice, as he marched into the office of the shop. I shot up, from an uncomfortable but fairly deep sleep in my chair. I groaned softly, and dropped my head back to the desk. "You okay?" He asked. I groaned again, in response, before sitting back up, and looking at him. "It died on the way here, and then I got locked out. Nate had to tow it over here." "So what is it?" "You didn't look yet?" "Yeah, I did! I figured I'd ask anyways!" He replied sarcastically, laughing softly. "No, I didn't." I nodded groggily, and pulled the picture that had come in the folder with the truck. He whistled, "Wow… What a beaut! That's one nice looking truck…" I nodded, pushing out of the chair. "Yeah, was. Now it's a beater. I figure, if we can fix it up, I could probably get it off to Mikey in a few days, and be on the road by the end of the week." I gestured towards the door, and we both moved out to the garage.

"Oh!…" My dad was startled by the condition of the truck now, compared to the photo. The picture showed gleaming, immaculate red and orange flames screaming across deep sapphire blue on the cab, and the colors inverted on the hood. I sighed softly. "This thing is gonna take a while… Mikey's really gonna have his work cut out for him." My dad nodded, and walked away, to pin the photo on the board next to the office window. "When Shaina gets in later, I'll have her look for more pictures. That'll make Mikey's job at least a little bit easier." My dad offered. I shrugged and looked at the truck. It had seemed like a good idea at first, but now I was looking at the truck, and seeing problems everywhere, even ones that probably weren't actually there. Running a hand through my hair, I set off.


Three exhausting days later, the truck was done. Or at least, mechanical work was done. The truck itself looked like crap, but it ran beautifully, seamlessly even. I looked above the opposite wall and glared at the black and white analog clock, bold black letters showing 8:43pm. I sighed and carefully pushed the hood of the Peterbilt back down, clipping it shut.

"You still out here, Dee?" "Huh?" I looked up, spotting my friend and mechanic, Aiden. "Oh, yeah, I'm still here… It's done. It's finally done!" I laughed softly, leaning into the grill of the truck. "Well that's good… I just talked to your dad. He's got a run for you." "A run? But it's not ready to go! It starts, and the basic maintenance checks out, but I haven't even gone for a test drive! And above all else, I still need fuel. I only put in enough to start 'er up." I thumped my head back into the grill, sighing. "I kind of need to make my parts money back, though, at the very least." I muttered. I sighed again, rubbed my face with a greasy gray-black hand, and leaned away from the grill. Aiden smiled pitifully, patted me on the back, then turned away, and returned to the office. Shaking my head, I grabbed the multiple empty soda cans on the step of the truck, and followed.


My dad was sitting in the office, clicking away at the computer. Ebay. I thought to myself. Tossing the armful of empty Mountain Dew's and Dr. Pepper's in a blue recycle bin, I dropped into a chair on the opposite side of Dad's desk. "You win anything?" I murmured. He simply grunted a response, typed something in, and clicked murderously. I snickered softly, and answered aloud, to myself, "Trying to." He nodded. Typing and clicking again, he looked up. "Just bought a whole lot of oil filter wrenches." He stated proudly. I smiled, and nodded. "Nice. Because we totally don't have a million of them already?" He shrugged and responded with a simple Mehh. I rolled my eyes, leaned over the arm of chair, and grabbed a new can of soda out of the half-size fridge at my side. "So where am I going and why am I leaving already?" I asked, cracking the can open, and taking a long sip. "You said the truck would be ready in a few days. It's been a few days." He stated firmly. I folded my arms. "Fort Worth, Texas." My eyes widened, and I nearly choked on my soda. Twice in under a week. Must be a new choking record for me. "Texas?! Dad, that's at least a thousand miles! I don't know if this truck can even go fifty miles without breaking down or getting blowing itself to smithereens!" I exclaimed. "A quarter less than two-grand." He corrected, carelessly. "It's around seventeen-hundred, as long as you take this route-" he handed me a number of sheets over the desk, "-and probably about two days. Give or take." My jaw dropped as I looked over the instructions. "You expect me to drive from middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts to Fort Worth, Texas, and back-" He nodded, "-in two freaking days?" He threw his hands up and shook his head. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no. Those instructions are one way, you dipshit." He slapped his forehead and shook his head.

"Oh." I sighed, relieved. "It's been a long couple of days. Just one problem, though. I haven't taken a test drive, and it still needs fuel. Specifically, two entire tanks worth. I pulled both of them, 'cause they were a bit ugly-lookin'." I shrugged, standing up, and taking a sip of my soda, looking over the first page of instructions. "Well then run to the station, fill 'er up, and get going!" My dad ordered in rather sergeant-ly manner. I nodded, and put myself in gear, setting a mental autopilot.


I watched the numbers rolling by. $100. $200. $300. $700. $800. $900. $1,000. When the meter ran to 246 gallons -or rather, 46, after the third scan of my card, because the meter only ran a hundred gallons at a time- I shook my head and let go of the trigger. The tanks on this truck were a hundred gallons each. It should've only taken two hundred. At most! Leaning against the truck, I glared down the length of the cab, wishing it weren't such a nightmare already.

Dorothy, the station's owner, rounded the front of the truck. She was an ancient-looking woman. She moved slowly, due to many health problems. She'd run the station for many years, as in, before I was even born. Sure, I was only 22, but she'd still been working here a looooong time… I shook off the glare towards the truck, and smiled at her. "How ya doing, dear?" She asked, her strong voice defying her physical appearance. "I'm good, Thee. How are you?" She rolled her eyes and waved it off, with a simple "Ahh, same as always. Grandkids are getting old. Kids are getting even older." She shrugged. I smiled and laughed.

"So where did ya get this beater?" She said, staring firmly at the truck, taking a step back, and putting hands on her hips. It was like the truck was a friend of the male species, and she was determining its value, and whether or not it was worthy of my time. "I got it from Rick. Y'know, the dirtbag up at Exit 4?-" I shook my head, "-Just as much of a scumbag as always. Twenty-eight-hundred for this thing. Can ya believe that? Just over a thousand into parts and-" pointing to the meter, "-I just nudged my budget over five-grand." She nodded, and looked back at me, staring me in the eyes. "It's not a bad truck… But you better paint it! It's damned ugly!" We both laughed. Dorothy, or Thee, as everybody knew her, was known especially well for her brutal honesty. She reached out and flaked some paint off the door on the sleeper cab.

Without warning, the truck exploded to life, and let out a loud, long blaring of the air horn, making us both jump back a few steps. I stared, startled, at the truck. "Th-there's ahhh- there's still a few uhm- ahh- kinks that need to be worked out." I stumbled over words, trying to explain. "I'll say!" Dorothy hissed in response. I simply nodded, "I uhh- I gotta… Go?" I mumbled. She nodded and waved me towards the cab, walking away. As she passed the grill, the truck honked at her, making her jump again, and move a good deal faster, despite her bad joints. I let my head fall, sighed, and climbed into the truck, feeling awkward, banished almost. Humiliated.

Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I called my dad, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, to shift gears. He picked up almost immediately. "Y'allo?" "Hey, it's me. We have a slight wiring problem." "Wiring problem? But we tested all of the wiring, and I replaced a bunch of the fuses!" "Well, obviously not the right ones. I was over at Thee's and the thing started up on its own." "What?! But that's not even possible!" "Well obviously it is now!" I snapped back. "Ahh shit. Well, we'll fix it when you get back from that run." "But-!" "No! You need to go on that run. Don't argue! It's waiting for you at the UPS hub in West Springfield. Now get going!" I growled out a sharp 'Fine!' and hung up, pouting.


Damn that old woman! He thought. That paint fragging hurt. There were only two ways to compare it to the human anatomy. Peeling a layer of skin off, and pulling off an extremely sticky band-aid on the hairiest part of your arm. It slagging hurt! And his slagging driver! She only barely filled his tanks! Their "capacity" may have been a hundred gallons per, but their real capacity was around eight-hundred, total. He was silently grumbling to himself. Maybe he should just dump this driver in some obscure place, too, like he'd done to the second human who was so unfortunate to buy him. All these creator-slagged humans wanted out of him was to haul as much cargo as they could from place to place, and they didn't care what it was, how much it weighed and whether or not it exceeded his alt. mode's tow capacity, nor how much damage it caused him or other people, with their rude, careless driving style, and non-existent skills.

The Prime was severely displeased. To say the least, displeased. He saved their planet, multiple times, in ways they couldn't possibly imagine, and this was what he got? Sector Seven be slagged. NEST be slagged. U.S. Government Extraterrestrial Plans be slagged. Earth and the entire human race be slagged! He huffed, air tanks sighing, and chugged on, following his driver's lead. Why him?

A/N: Hey guys! Missed you! So for those of you who're following this fic, you know that it's been out of commission for a very long time. *steps on fountain* My bad. Anyways, I've been talking on my page about revamping this fic, and totally redoing it. Well, redoing the whole thing seemed a bit much. I liked the way this fic started, but unfortunately it got away from me. I felt like I needed to post new chapters on a specific schedule, and it just killed me. I went too fast through the plot, rushed to the good stuff, and left out a shit ton of character development. So here it is. Reviewed, revised, and reposted. Also FYI, it has been posted both on Ego Vivo, and under a separate, new title, Chick vs Truck . :D Yay for updates? My hope is to post the next segment this weekend some time. But we'll see, I suppose…