Located in an unlikely corner of the world — part Mission, part SOMA, and a long, drunk walk from the Castro — Truck feels like the handsome lovechild of Moby Dick and Daddy's (er, "440 Castro"), except without the tourists. The bar's name, emblazoned in a Tonka-like font next to the door, might sound like just another fetish joint, but Truck is more playful than that: it's a tractor-trailer fantasy, complete with mudflaps and lots of chrome. The bartenders are as charming and scruffy as the crowd, and on select nights the vibe gets amiably slutty. Still, this is more of a meet-and-drink place than an all-out meat market. And trust us: If you want to take out-of-town gays to a bar that's a destination but not an institution (a place that reminds us of our favorite East Village hangouts from back in the day), take them to Truck before it gets overrun by the fake-ID crowd.