Grown-up truck; second childhood

By DENNY BONAVITA, C-E Editor/Publisher

Monday, February 20, 2012

My trucks have always shared two characteristics during the 20 or so years that I have owned them.
They have been closer to bare-bones than to option-loaded. And they have been "little guy" trucks, a Nissan Frontier and two consecutive Mazdas, a B4000 and a B3000.
They have sufficed.
Last year, the rust-colored "character stripes" on my 1999 Mazda began to migrate into the frame, casting serious doubt as to whether the truck would avoid breaking in two when I drove it over rutted fields. Yes, I drive a truck over rutted fields, usually in search of sawdust. Why? It's a "honey-do" thing. Blueberries are involved.
So, not wanting to try to haul two half-trucks to the junkyard, I began to look for a replacement.
Among life's everyday pleasures, few are as satisfying in the approaching twilight years of my life as starting to look for a replacement vehicle when I don't need to find one in a hurry, and when I have the money in the bank to pay cash. Of course, my wife reminds me that the money I intend to take out of the bank and use for a truck is that much less money that will be available to support us in retirement. Naturally, I have a rejoinder; two, in fact. 1. Who says that I will retire? My father died before he could retire. Perhaps I'll drop dead at my desk, and won't need any money beyond that set aside for prepaid funeral expenses. 2. There is a reason, my dear, why I married a lovely, strong woman almost fully 10 years younger than I; you, my dear, are my retirement.
After making statements like those, I spend a good deal of time in and around the barn, rather than inside the house. Yes, the house is heated and the barn is not, but there is chill and there is chilliness. I prefer the former, and so I reacquaint myself with the dogs, cats and chickens.
Eventually, I rouse myself, and get on with life, which for three months consisted of gleeful not-in-a-hurry attempts to find a real bargain used truck.
Hint: There aren't any. Most people who own trucks, male and female, also like trucks, so they tend to hang onto them. What becomes available, therefore, either fits the above description of my rust-sprinkled fossils, or else has been revved to tranny-grinding, valve-knocking looseness by young studleys (or studettes, these days), seeking to impress members of the opposite sex or else attempting to prove that Einstein was wrong when he said that trucks cannot travel faster than the speed of light, or something like that.
Now, there are solid values available, from dealers and from private-party sellers.
But I didn't want a solid value. I wanted a $15,000 truck for $10,000, and that became my opening chit-chat gambit on car lots far and wide.
Car sales people are a long-suffering lot. Invariably, they smiled, and bit back a retort that would have been deserved, in favor of an obsequious tribute to my wit: "Gee, I just sold the last one of those an hour ago. We do have $15,000 trucks for $15,000, however."
Eventually, I brought home a less-used truck, vintage 2007.
But it was all grown up, a full-size Chevy Silverado 1500, no less.
My wife heard it before she saw it, and she knew it was me pulling into the driveway, because the truck has dual exhausts, deep, growly dual exhausts.
"You really are into your second childhood, aren't you?" she said, or words to that effect.
I grinned, happily, and shook my head in the affirmative.
There are drawbacks to full-sized trucks, of course. One is that, for a few weeks, I searched wistfully for a "roundhouse," one of those old-railroad buildings where a locomotive would be pulled inside, and the set of tracks would be pulled by gears into a 180-degree spin, thereby allowing the train to turn around. The turning radius of the Chevy has since shrunk as I have grown accustomed to it, but when towing a utility trailer, I do not parallel-park. Full-sized trucks also use more gasoline - but that was not unbearable. I get 16 mpg or so. I got 18 mpg or so. Since the truck is a primary vehicle only during the snow/ice winter months, that's tolerable.
What brought joy to my face, however, were the gadgets. I had had air conditioning, automatic transmission and cruise control. I had not had OnStar, or XM radio, or separate driver and passenger climate controls, or one of those computerized LED displays that, at the touch of a button, can cycle through fuel economy, gas used, miles traveled, hours on a timer, tire pressure, even transmission temperature. The Chevy even has a thingie that will switch the engine from V8 to V4, displaying impossible numbers like "77 miles per gallon" for a few seconds while going downhill. Never mind the "7 miles per gallon" displayed while going back up the same hill. The "77" is smile-producing. Sure, it's fiction, but we love fiction.
The piece de resistance, however, came when I pulled the truck into the garage. The wide side mirrors made it a very tight fit, about 3 inches on each side.
"I'll need to fold those mirrors each time," I thought. "That means I'll need to get outside in cold weather. Darn. That won't be ... hmm. What ARE these two buttons below the mirror angle adjustment buttons?"
Push the button - and the mirrors fold inward! Push the other button, and they fold back out!
That is decadent.
It also explains why it takes me 10 minutes sometimes just to pull out of the garage.
I just like those buttons, and watching the mirrors. A whole lot.
In. Out. In. Out. In .... "Yes, dear. I'm just .... umm ... playing."
Second childhood, indeed.
Giggle.
q q q
Denny Bonavita is the editor and publisher of McLean Publishing Co. in west-central Pennsylvania, including the Courier-Express in DuBois. Email: dbonavita@thecourierexpress.com