Seat Covers

Custom Seat Covers

Protecting your Interior and Your Sanity on the Daily

And now a word about Seat Covers. Here’s the thing, and I hear you a-grumblin’ already: back in the day, I thought there was almost no reason for these covers except to keep your seats clean if you were a sloppy S.O.B. while eating KFC on the way home from work and to look like some surfer dude about to head to the beach to hang out with his long haired hippy friends.

You know what I’m talking about.

Those cheap-o big box store seat covers--the neon green ones with the tropical scenes on ‘em.

Yeah, we all had that nonsense, didn’t we? Or I’ll bet a ten spot you knew someone who did.

My point is, I figured these babies were just for show. There wasn’t really a purpose to getting a seat cover, especially not for your work truck, unless if you wanted to try to look cool or maybe--just maybe--if you already jacked up your seat and were trying to cover it up.

I actually think I tore up my seats on my old Buick when I was in high school one time and tried to hide the damage from my mother by picking up some thirty dollar seat cover from Walley-world.

Yeah, don’t laugh too hard, cause your kiddo will probably try the same stunt some day only hopefully it won’t be cause he was playing around with a hunting knife while cruising down some backroads at night, smoking a cig in one hand, drivin’ with his kneecap like some kinda freak from a Mad Max / League of Legends mash up.

Yeah, somebody should make that game already. Or maybe it should be a Netflix show.

But anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I used to be young, dumb, and full of… er… various chemicals and hormones I’m probably not allowed or ‘posed to be mentioning on this here website. But now I’m older, wiser, and still full of all that other stuff, and I’m humble enough to admit it--I was wrong. And my opinions have shifted slightly.

It turns out, first, that now I am that sloppy S.O.B. who attempts and often fails at eating KFC on the way home from work cause I’m trying to stuff my face so fast in hopes my wife won’t smell the grease on me when I get home. And no, I don’t mean grease from working on my truck. I mean fryer grease. My manual labor days are long behind me, unfortunately. Squandered on the youth, am I right?

No, these days I have a wife and kids and couple dogs, and let me tell you, I definitely recommend that if you’re gonna do any of that stuff--buy a dog, disappoint a wife, or pop out some “oops” babies, respectively--then you’re gonna want to get a full set of custom seat covers first, hear you me, my friend.

Let me lay it all low for you, cause I’ve been where you are--contemplating a purchase for something you might be thinking is frivolous or cosmetic. Let me tell you--this ain’t nothing like that at all. These seat covers are a must have. Whether you’re looking at those sweet Husky Seat Covers or one of the more stylish Saddleman Camo sets, these covers are going to save your truck and keep it looking in perfect condition for years to come, even with your kids, wife, whole family, and your two mutts constantly trying to sabotage the whole damn thing.

Let me tell you a little story, Friend-o. Cause your world is gonna up and change on you, and without the older and wiser gen lookin’ back and givin’ you a helpin’ hand, you just might sh!t the bed, or at least one of your dogs might.

Love Pains and Neoprene Dreams

So as I was a-sayin’, these seat covers--they used to not be for me. But that was back when I was flying solo. My only vehicle was my work truck, an old Ford F-150 Lariat, and I didn’t really care how dirty the damn thing got.

And the fact of the matter is, they got pretty dirty. I’d do all sorts of nasty work from landscaping gigs in the summer to roofing when my family’s crew needed a few extra hands. And let’s just say hygiene wasn’t at the top of my list.

But hey, when you’re a young 20 something punk, just bachloring it up in the midwest of the US of A, you don’t worry so much about such things.

And then, I met my future honey, my dream, my sweet-ums. And no, I’m not talking about my newest pickup truck purchase here. I’m talking about the beautiful woman who is my wife today.

We didn’t meet as so many young folks do around here, at the local dive bar over on 7th and Main, nor were we out at the rockpile the youngins like to drink at in the middle of that field over off 66.

No, we met at a wedding--her sister’s wedding, to be exact. She was a bridesmaid, and I was just that weird cousin who you invite cause you’re trying to be nice, but you kinda hope he doesn’t show up because there are two versions of me at a wedding--drunk and extra crispy drunk.

Luckily, this wedding had an open bar, and by the time the dancing really got into full swing, I was borderline breaded and deep fried.

There she was, in one of those hideous peach bridesmaid’s dresses with only one strap over her right shoulder, and a lock of golden hair twisted up and hanging down just passed her subtle cheek bones. It was pretty close on near the end of the Electric Slide, when she caught my eye, and I got distracted and near knocked over a middle aged aunt who was dancing next to me. I saw my future wife’s boots first. Maybe that’s what really got me.

She was wearing cowboy boots underneath that there dress. I guess you’d call ‘em cowgirl boots, these days since all the political correctness and all.

But never you mind, cause it worked that night. I walked right over to her, asked her for a dance, and complimented her on those there cowboy boots, and she didn’t mind in the slightest that I called ‘em that neither.

And so you all know the story. No need for me to tell it. We had a few rounds of tequila shots, before we ended up out in my truck making out. And it probably would’ve kept on going much to my liking, had the next thing not happened. You see, she was kinda up in my lap on the passenger side there in my truck, and I think she got all turned around, cause when she started to gag…

Now get your mind outta the gutter. This is a kid friendly story here.

She started to hurl up those beers and that cheap liquor, well, instead of turning to her left and leaning out the window, she turned the other way and let go right across the driver’s side of my front seat.

Now I’m not saying that my truck was in no pristine condition or nothing. But I tried to keep it relatively cleaned up, especially on nights when I was hopeful I might not be driving home alone, like I don’t know, when going to your cousin’s wedding.

And that just about ruined that night except I had one of those AirBedz mattresses in the back under my tonneau cover already ready to go in case I couldn’t drive my happy ass back home, so I just went and got her some water, and we crashed out under the stars. I know. I used to be so freakin’ romantic.

Nothing much more to say about that night I guess, except that in the morning I found this sweet girl of mine cleaning up her puke outta my seats.

And you know what she said to me. She owed me for the previous night and how I took care of her and didn’t take advantage.

So I coyly asked her what she owed me, hoping for the best, here, guys, if you know what I mean. And she said, you’ll see.

A few dates and a couple weeks later, and she shows up at my apartment door with a little surprise. She had ordered me a Saddleman Neoprene seat cover in Camo, nonetheless. Wish every gal knew that the true way to a man’s heart is right through the cab of his truck.

Again, I was a skeptic, but those seat covers looked great, and let me tell you, the next time someone spilled a drink or had a little too much of one all over my front seats, it was way easier to clean up. We just pulled those covers off, and washed them down with some soap and water, and let them dry. Nothing quite like a waterproof seat cover. They were good as new and lasted me for years to come.

Mutt-lees and Kiddos

So time passed, and one thing lead to another, and before you knew it, I put a ring on it and got some bread in her basket, and we started poppin’ out little ones. And I thought this was about the time to start upgrading the family vehicles. Wife had an SUV, and I ended up trading in for a crew cab Chevy Silverado with plenty of room in the back for the kids.

And this time around, I knew that no matter what we’d want to protect our investments. And boy was I right. She covered her SUV with WeatherTech liners and Saddleman Seat Covers. And I decided to deck out my Silverado in Husky--got me some floor liners and seat covers for the front and back too.

I knew what was gonna happen, and it didn’t take long for the first kid to start spilling his juice in the back seat, and I can’t tell you how often I found Goldfish crackers and smashed french fries shoved up into the seat covers and under car seats and just all over the damn place. But I had my interior protected, from the upholstery of the floorboards all the way up to the top of my seats.

But that isn’t what really got me. I mean, even then this is kinda what you’re askin’ for when you start having kiddos. They’re a-gonna make messes, after all. They’re kids.

No, that isn’t the unexpected nonsense that befell me and made me feel I had to make this recommendation to ya’ll. Look, if you have kids then you know there’s gonna be all kinds of mess nigh all the time.

But what got me was the dog.

I’d always had dogs--hunting dogs, herding dogs, big old territorial dogs. But I ain’t never had no dog like my wife just had to have--one of those little yippie dogs. I think it’s a French Bulldog or something cause it’s got those big ol’ bat ears on the littlest darn head you’ve ever seen.

It looks kinda like it could take flight if the wind caught it just right--like Stitch from that kid movie, the alien creature thing, only way less adorable, in my humble opinion.

Anyway, wife just had to have this little mutt of a dog. And maybe I’m just old fashioned, but anything that’s gotta be artificially inseminated to exist, probably just shouldn’t. Am I right?

Case in point, you see she just had to bring this damn thing with us everywhere. So this one time we’re heading to go visit my sister up north about two hours away from us up near Lake Shelbyville. And she’s just gotta bring little Bilbo--yeah, she named it after a hobbit. Go figure. I took it more for a Golem, but hey, it wasn’t my dog to name.

So we pack up my truck, of course, and load up the kids in the back, and we get underway.

We’ve got about 40 minutes into our ride, and one stop at Hardee’s (Carl’s Jr. for those non-Midwesterns who’re reading this) down, when my little boy in the backseat announces he’s gotta take a leak. So we stop off at a gas station, and you know, we make both the kids, my little gal, Olivia, and my son, Tommy, and even my wife and I, we all go use the facilities. And even that damn little mutt goes for a little walk over to the grass and takes the tiniest little leak you’ve ever seen. Little bat eared demon dog.

So 15 minutes added to the length of our trip, and we’re back on the road for the lake. And I’m thinking I’m in for a pretty fine time this weekend, hanging out with my brother-in-law, and having a few drinks, tellin’ stories from when we were younger. You know, that kinda stuff.

And I must have been daydreaming about the past, getting all nostalgic and such, when suddenly this smell hits my nostrils. And we are talkin’ something foul, my friends, and I don’t mean no bird from KFC here. I mean the smell you get an hour or so after the KFC run, when you’re up on your throne regretting your decisions and questioning the meaning of life. That kinda smell.

Now my son, he hasn’t been potty trained too long, and we had him in trainers still for the nights and the long trips just in case. Heck, I was pretty proud that he caught himself there earlier when he asked to go potty and didn’t just piss himself. Still I’m thinking he dropped his guard and let one go all in his pants, which is gross and definitely will require us finding a second place to pit stop, and I mean pronto, cause this stench--it’s ungodly. It was an ungodly, fel demon of a smell.

So as I subconsciously start to roll down my window, not saying anything but kinda givin’ my wife a look to let her know I’m looking for a gas station again, cause I don’t want to upset the boy and embarrass him in front of his sister and his mommy.

Well, right about then, she--the little sister--she starts screaming. I couldn’t tell exactly what she was saying. Stinky, I think. But she kept screaming it and pointing. And I thought at first she was pointing towards her brother, and I was about to say, we know, and it’s okay, and all that kinda stuff you’re supposed to say when you’re a parent and trying not to barf in your mouth a little while you’re inhaling your kid’s nether region waste fumes, when I glance in the rearview and see she’s not pointing at the boy. She’s pointing in between her and him.

And he’s turned and looking down at something on the seat.

So I turn around and look, and I kid you not, right there, smack dab in the middle of that seat was a pile of dog sh!t so big--well, damn, it was bigger than Bilbo, that little mutt himself, but he musta let it, cause there wasn’t no other dog around. So as I’m swerving to the side of the road, my wild eyes start searching around for that damn dog, and what do ya know, but he’s already up in the front seat, in my wife’s lap again, rubbing his little doggy tushy all over her blue jeans.

Coulda killed the damn thing. But not in front of the kids, right?

Luckily, we had plenty of wet wipes with us on account of my son’s potty training and his little sister still in diapers too, and guess what? Dog poo cleans up pretty easy off these Husky Liner’s Custom Seat Covers. Who knew? I guess I do now, so I thought I’d at least share that with ya, cause you aren’t gonna find that kinda information on their website. Just a real man’s dog, grinning at you, over some sweet looking floor liners and seat covers. That’s it.

But my point stands. Whether you’re planning on having kids, ever have too much to drink, or your wife insists on bringing her little vermin of a dog with her everywhere, you’re gonna want some seat covers, hear you me.

And I highly recommend those Husky’s too. By God. That heavy duty fabric is some tough stuff, and it cleans up real nice too.

Now I gotta go dig a hole for no particular reason at all. But in the meantime, do your future self a favor, and pickup some heavy duty seat covers today from

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