Issue Index

Full-Time Dads;

The Magazine for Caregiver Fathers

Issue 14, originally appeared in print - March 1995

The Truck Gene

By Bob Gladding

I felt it was only fair to share this most recent medical breakthrough with my fellow full-time dads before I attempt to have my findings published in the new England Journal of Medicine. After months of exhaustive research and observation, I have determined that in addition to X and Y chromosomes, little boys have a previously undiscovered T chromosome. I shall refer to the T chromosome from here on as the "truck gene."

My wife and I were fortunate enough to actually see our son's chromosomes after having Chorionic Villi Sampling performed while Ethan was still in utero. Retaining only the most rudimentary knowledge from my college biology I was still able to notice that in addition to his regular chromosomes, which look like little black pieces of linguine under the electron microscope, there was one small round object in the picture. "What's that?" I asked. "Oh, nothing," replied the geneticist. Being a natural skeptic, I was sure that the tiny wheel shape had some significance in my son's future development.

Ethan was born, the months passed and he developed normally. He played with the usual array of rattles, blocks, squeak toys, stacking cups and so on, gleefully as most babies do. Language came early to Ethan and by eighteen months, in addition to Mamma, Dadda and bye-bye, he was saying apple and a few other cute words. Up to this point we had not made any conscious effort to buy him boy toys. Then came Route 100.

Shortly before his second birthday, the state highway administration contractors began work to complete MD Route 100, behind our subdivision. From several vantage points in the community you could see the endless parade of earth movers and heavy construction equipment. Our daughter Hannah was also born early that summer and our babysitter would often take Ethan on walks to watch the construction so the rest of us could have some peace and quiet. It was then that the latent truck gene kicked in.

The first hint was when Brooke and Ethan returned from one of their walks and Ethan burst through the door yelling, "Daddy-BACKHOE!" I looked at Brooke for some explanation, but she just shrugged and smiled. In the coming days, cement mixer, dump truck, bulldozer and power shovel were added to his vocabulary. As his second birthday approached, I took over the walks, which lasted for hours as we stopped to inspect the progress on the highway. One day, I pointed out a piece of equipment which I called a "Little front end loader." Ethan looked at me seriously, as only a two-year-old can, and said, "No daddy-BOBCAT!" It was then that I began to suspect that nature was at work.

His birthday came and went. Little Tykes, Tonka and Remco shareholders wrote personal letters thanking us for making it a banner year for their companies. My living room looked like a story board for "Road Construction," a video he received, one more seductive than ice cream or cookies. I wasn't surprised, for I had worshipped anything on wheels as a child. Yet, I was troubled. Ellen and I were doing our best to provide a gender-neutral environment. True, he liked to cook with his little pots and pans, vacuum with a little sweeper and adored his stuffed animals. There must be some explanation as to why he gravitated to these "manly" things.

I began to search for clues. He liked Cheerios, pizza, sliced hot dogs and Spaghetti-O's-all shaped like little wheels. Pretty unscientific, but a place to start. In my fervor, I began to collect samples for more empirical analysis. I spirited away fingernail clippings and snips of hair. Lacking the powerful instruments of the Genetics Institute, I was forced to conduct my examinations with the most primitive of tools-a magnifying glass from my fly fishing tackle and a small plastic telescope gotten as a prize from a recent trip to Chuck E Cheese. Naturally I was unable to amass any significant microbiological data with these poor substitutes. Frantically I searched for some link, some shred of evidence that would support my wild theories. Then, I remembered the chromosome pictures. Of courseŠthe little wheel shaped thing. The truck gene was there all the time!

There are many skeptics. My doctor friends at the renowned Johns Hopkins University snicker when I share my theories. They are too absorbed in oncology and proctology and all the other "ologies" I can't pronounce. My friends look in my wild eyes and just shake their heads. But I am convinced that the answer to male behavior lies in this simple microscopic dot; that nothing a parent can do will sway its powerful influence over a little boy's behavior. All my friends that have raised sons seem to agree to the inevitability of this profound and inexplicable desire to play with things on wheels and to worship anything powered by internal combustion engines.

It may be years, perhaps decades before I am given the credit I deserve for this important discovery that my may revolutionize medical science. No matter. While I patiently wait for my accolades I am hard at work on new research. My little girl is rapidly approaching two, and there is precious little time to prove the existence of the "B" gene. After all, someone has to explain why there are all those "Barbies" around the neighborhood!

Copyright 1994 Bob Gladding