Yep, an old ’85 Ford F250. A man can only explore so far in the family minivan.
My last trip to Iosepa must have been the last straw. When I pulled into the driveway in our mud-caked minivan, Meadow was understandably confused.
“Where did the mud come from?” she asked (Iosepa is a pretty dry place most of the year).
“The river,” I teased.
“The river at Iosepa, huh?” she asked (she knows there’s no river at Iosepa).
She must have forgotten that I had planned to locate parts of the Iosepa’s historic irrigation sources, which lie along a mountain stream a few miles south of the townsite. This spring being an unusually wet one, said stream was running higher than normal and had flooded part of the dirt road I was following. Hence the mud. And my lack of footwear.
“I don’t even want to know,” she said.
The next week she texted me a picture when I was at work. “I think I found you a truck,” she captioned.
A good find, too. Frankly, I don’t have the money to buy a new truck outright. And as much as I hate admitting that American-made cars are inferior, I’ll just bite the bullet and say it: American-made vehicles simply do not hold a candle to most foreign counterparts. Anybody who doesn’t believe that needs to buy, drive, and depend on a late model Ford or Chevy for more than 50,000 miles. Seriously, just do it and see what happens right about at mile 50,001. Then buy a Toyota and conduct the same experiment. ‘Nuff said.
But this was an ’85 Ford. Back when, as my Ford fanatic uncle says, they still made solid trucks. This truck has 150,000 miles on it. It’s not much to look at, but it runs better than our ’07 Ford minivan.
The guy selling it had priced it well under Blue Book, and Meadow had talked him down several hundred from that. It needs a good tune-up and I’d best get rid of the pink heart seat cover, but otherwise it’s in great shape. I tested it out in Ophir Canyon last week and it performed well above expectations.
So everybody’s happy. Meadow gets her van back, I get to finally explore offroad without sweating bullets, the kids get the experience of riding in a real truck, and the dog finally gets to come along on our outings.
You know who else is happy? Whoever owns the gas station near our house. In fact, with the whopping 10 mpg my new truck gets, he may just be the happiest of all.