The Joy of an Old Pickup Truck
Updated: Jan 3
We live in a world of plenty and as such have forgotten many of the simple joys. Whether it is an old sweater, a battered pair of boots or an old pickup truck, sometimes it is not the shiny and new that brings the most pleasure. I was reminded of this because of a shedding dog.
My lovely mate was in need of a new vehicle. She wanted something safe, roomy and with a commanding view of the road. It was not long before a luxurious King Ranch Expedition was parked in the garage. The interior resplendent with rich leather, cooled and heated seats and carpet so dark that it absorbs light like a dying star. A beautiful vehicle to be sure and more importantly, exactly what she wanted.
It seemed that no thickness of covering could protect the interior from the constant shedding of our Anatolian Shepherd. Odin was an amazingly sweet dog, but his hair sloughed off at a rate causes him to reside in a cloud, not unlike Pig Pen from Charlie Brown. As his hairy detritus was causing my lady stress, I bought an old pickup truck so that he didn’t have to ride in her Expedition.
Yes, I bought a pickup for a dog
and yes, it was a great decision.
An old truck is perfect for when your boots are muddy.
Need to go to the dump, it is right at home.
Same thing with the hardware store.
There is no need to park way out for fear of door dings, they just add character.
An old pickup is the exact opposite of the Jeep that never goes off road. Some Mall-Crawlers are owned by girls who think that jeeps are cute and there is no pretense there. Others are owned by man-wannabes. You know the type. It has a big front bumper, perhaps a winch and it is always lifted. Perhaps it sports a tire cover that proclaims that “it’s a jeep thing, you wouldn’t understand” or “if you can read this, please turn over” written upside down.
Except for the third day of ownership, where it was driven through a ditch, their poor Jeep has never been off the pavement.
The man-posers are likely to park their jeep outside their home office window so that it can be seen in the background of their
zoom calls. Still, no matter how they try, they fool no one. For them, their mall-crawler is the four wheeled equivalent of the “man-bun.”
On the flip side, the old pickup truck is the sloped-shouldered country boy that doesn’t speak much. Like that young man that got more work done before daylight than most of us will do in a week, it doesn’t have anything to prove. It doesn’t care about style. It doesn’t give a rat’s ass what some stuck up botoxed bitch in a Range Rover thinks.
One of the many things that are great about Texas is that the old pickup is appreciated by the valet more than that Range Rover. Why? Several reasons, but one is because the owner is much more likely to be a good human. Range Rovers are porcupine cars. (The difference between a Range Rover and a porcupine is that the porcupine has the pricks on the outside.) No one wants to do anything nice for them. On the other hand, the old pickup driver is more likely to be truly appreciative of the valet. The old truck isn’t a complaint waiting to happen. Old trucks are never named Karen.
The truck is like an old friend. Happy, comfortable, like an old pair of jeans or a broken-in pair of slippers.
We should remember that all that glistens is not gold and more importantly, even gold is more lovely with a little patina.
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