My New Car

I bought a new car.

Well, new to me at least.

A sparkling (that is subject to interpretation) new (I use that term loosely) 1994 Toyota Pick-up.

The bumper is rusted…I don’t think it could tow me if I were tied to it…and the hood and roof look as if it has vitiligo.

But the tires are in good shape, the truck bed has a nice liner and the engine runs like a champ.

It is perfect for runs to Home Depot…critical when you buy a house that was built 18 years ago and has been neglected the last two…it is perfect for camping…it is perfect for driving in hail storms.

Sure, it is small…like really, really small.  No extra cab, no reclining seats.

I pull up next to a Ford Ranger and I have size envy.

But it represents everything my pops taught me about cars. 

1. Consumer Reports loves them
   
2. It has been well maintained (I even have receipts for oil changes dating back to my freshman year of college!)
   
3. It did not cost much
   

I even called pops the day I bought it and told him that he would be so proud of me.

Sure, I have to sneak in and out of my neighborhood because I don’t think the HOA lets people who live there drive such a car.  Yes, I get very weird glances when I pull into the parking lot at work. 

I have even been asked if I am having money problems since this was my “New Car”.

But I love it.  It is perfect for what I need. 

And if I am lucky, my first born will drive it when he/she turns 16.  How cool will that be?