It didn’t go as expected.
When I got the truck, I expected raised eyebrows and a lot of mockery.
Most of all though, I expected younger people to hate it.
That’s not what happened at all.
Friends my age, the professional ones shook their heads and laughed while ruefully warning me about gas prices and carbon, while crowing on about their battery powered bits of progressive perfection.
Don’t get me wrong: I love the torque and power and low operating costs that come with the plug in Prius that we have.
And no matter what I do with the Prius, it begins it’s life with a newer, bigger carbon footprint than my old truck. I leaned this from one of the surprising young people.
Every time you repair something, you’re saving the world.
Given that my truck is a 93, they’ll likely need to provide me with a cape and a crest and a place amongst the Avengers as I anticipate a LOT of repairs.
But the green aspect of a truck that goes through gas the way I go through a buffet wasn’t the most surprising aspect of owning this truck. It’s the cool factor.
Every single young man that has seen my truck reacted with wide eyed excitement.
What year is it? It’s in such good shape!
They gawk and marvel at the 8’ box and the cab that has no back seats. The middle seat doesn’t even have a shoulder strap.
The climate controls are small, poorly placed and difficult to use. The heat doesn’t work properly. These ‘complaints’ are spoken not as complaints at all. These young men speak about this with awe and wonder.
Infotainment? This thing doesn’t even have a tape deck! Does the radio even work?
Once they’ve finished gushing over the radio, I highlight the best feature: The single bench seat.
This truck was built for love. When my wife rides with me, she’s not allowed a shoulder belt.
They shake their heads and look puzzled.
She has to sit in the middle seat so I can have my arm around her. That’s just how things go with these old trucks.
The young men I’ve been meeting with my truck seem to love old trucks. What I think they like even more though is a reminder of a time when the fm radio was the ‘infotainment,’ things were simple enough to be fixed and small acts of chivalry and a desire to be the big man, were considered romantic, not toxic patriarchal oppression.
Progress isn’t a good thing into and unto itself.
Keep the old truck. Learn to fix things. Repair and preserve. Find ways to remember the old ways.
The new ones, though efficient they’re also fairly disposable as well.
Let’s go back to the future.
The young men will thank you for it.