I drive a Goat.

Well, that's what they call it.

Doesn't look like a goat.

Doesn't smell like a goat.

Doesn't sound like a goat.

It drives like a truck with attitude.

The one I have to drive is the local piece of shit, but it's still a Goat.

Found out I still can't back in a straight line, even with a Goat to help.

My Goat pulled a bunch of trailers last night and, then, there wasn't much of anything to do.

My trainer, who also drives a Goat, said that about one in five don't make it driving Goats. Certainly made me feel welcome.

Anyway, all our Goats are white with black tails and they're kind of cute for goats, but they don't smile.

But, I did have fun, so maybe it'll be okay once I figure out what's going on.

And, the good thing is my Goat doesn't bite. It pinched me a couple times, but I think I got that figured out. After all, it's a Goat.