This is “My Precious Truck” so dubbed because it is by far the nicest vehicle I have ever owned and it is all mine…or rather mine and the lien holder’s :P What I mean is that this is the first time I have researched, chosen and purchased my own vehicle all by myself. Up until this time, I have had family and friends intimately involved in my car buying experiences, and my vehicles have been largely modest, to say the least, and always a group experience in the decision making department. My first vehicle was literally a rotting metal heap on top of four wheels, purchased for $600 from a co-worker of my dads otherwise known as a 1976 Vega (for which I was very grateful that my parents purchased for me). I believe that everyone should have to drive a heap (and a stick shift) once in their lives, just so that you can always be grateful for anything better that comes along. My heap took $6 in gas for the week and got me through three years of high school, never once leaving me on the side of the road, and acting as an alternative ride more than once for friends who had better looking vehicles that tended to break down more often than “the heap”. In the course of my relationship with this car, the driver side door fell off and had to be welded back on (thus giving me the nickname “daisy duke” in high school because I had to climb in and out of the window in my Catholic school girl skirt) and I lost all ability to use the stereo speakers that were never properly installed, but rather placed gingerly on the back seat where some unlucky friend had to sit on them, typically causing the loose wiring to dislodge on a regular basis until they were frayed beyond repair. For my high school graduation, my parents took mercy on me and bought me a lovingly-used Toyota mini-truck that I cherished for years to come.

From there followed a compact Mercury Topaz from my grandmother when she decided to quit driving and from there a Honda Civic from my best friend. Now this Honda had a history because mere days after my best friend bought the car, my then sixteen-year-old brother plowed into it with the family van, causing thousands of dollars in damage. The car was fixed and my friend drove it for years, adding all the little details that make a car an extension of how cool you are…rims, fin, window-tinting, etc…this car had it all and it was way flashier than I am (teenagers regularly tried to engage me in street races). It was also cursed. I swear, from the minute my brother crumpled that fender, that car hated my family. It was broken into four times…three times for the stereo and once just for a joy ride and it was the third car in a slow-speed 4 car pile-up one day on the way home from work. After that, I put my foot down, got rid of the car and bought another Honda Civic, this time a sensible, completely un-cool, 4-door from another close friend. I prided myself for the longest time that I had this really economical car that I could park anywhere because I didn’t care a whit about it AND I wasn’t contributing to our dependency on foreign oil—causing kids in Honduras to clean their feet with gasoline every night because that was the only way to get the black tar off their feet from all of the American drilling on their native land (I am still having mental issues with this) because I wasn’t like all those irresponsible SUV people (selfish beings!). Then my sensible car started to age, and it came time to start making decisions about what to do…start taking it to the dealer on a regular basis for check-ups (out of the question...you know they just rip you off!) or buy another car.

So, in typical fashion, I played with fate and drove my car with no professional mechanical supervision (with my dad bailing me out once for a hydraulic problem) and researched trucks and other vehicles to the best of my attention span for the subject (which is about 3 minutes a week) until I finally came across this lovely truck and it was love at first sight. .. I have always loved trucks…they fit my 5 foot 10 inch frame so much better than a car (particularly a Honda!). I pay for that love (don’t you always) in money and guilt (I am now no better than that gas-guzzling idiot Lincoln Navigator driving down the street), but right now I don’t care. I am simply basking in the glow (isn’t it just adorable). A friend of mine insists that you should always name your vehicle and then it will protect you (including never breaking down) so I briefly toyed with the idea of calling her “Delta the Doublecab” but then this friend bought a new car with an alignment problem that even the dealer hasn’t figured out how to fix, so I am thinking I’ll just stick to “My Precious Truck”.