I'm writing about the big guys, not the little ones. Pickups Are Talking By Glenn Lehman Pickups are trying to tell me something. What exactly? I have no idea. But they’re relentless—on the highway, in town, at the mall, even in the church parking lot. Their oversized grills gleam and glare at me. I keep trying to figure it out. Is it political, like, “the environment’s just a conspiracy”? Maybe they’re plum tired of feeling guilty about everything. "Let’s jump in the truck and head for the hills!" Or is it about privatization—each person for themselves? Maybe it’s psychological—sitting in a truck makes me happier than sitting in church? Or is it just another fad, like muscle cars, hot rods, and minivans? Maybe it’s cultural war. Maybe Americans just love big things? Pickups are big. When a four-door crew cab parks next to me, I have to back out on blind faith because I can’t see around the beast. Their giant steps up to the cab make me feel insignificant. And the soun