It was a long time in coming. Possibly it should have happened sooner, but at that moment everything was in sync so I went for it. The tan color went with everything, the brim was crisp, the size was right. A perfect fit. I turned to my wife to show off the quintessential British driving hat.
“Is that to go with the Miata you bright home” She asked in reply.
I stopped dead in shock. “You remember the Miata?”
“I remember everything about it.” She answered. “It was white, with a black interior and top. It had a manual transmission and pop-up headlights.”
I couldn’t believe that she remembered that car so well. It was over eighteen years ago and I had the car for a total of twenty-five minutes. Five of those were spent in the driveway.
“I remember the look of fear when you saw me behind the wheel.” I chuckled at the memory.
“It fit you too well. A perfect fit.”
This wasn’t the only time a sporty, little, two seat, siren sang out. Years later, two co-workers rushed to me, rapidly talking about some sports car.
“You gotta see it, Gene! It’s so you!” They cried with such enthusiasm, they were almost shouting.
“Ok! Ok! I’ll check it out.” I said, curious as to what was causing such a commotion.
When I reached my destination, an Austin “bug-eye” Sprite greeted me in all its crimson splendor.
Another time, a friend, Jason, told me about two cars some guy had for sale. One was a late 60’s Camaro while the other was, “Some British car”.
“You should buy it.” Jason said to me. “He’s only asking $2,500 and it fits you.”
I didn’t have the funds for a second car and the insurance that goes with it, but I figured I’d check it out. The “British Car” turned out to be a restored MGB decked out in Cobra Blue with white racing stripes.
I would be lying if I said I was never tempted. Who wouldn’t want the romance of a private dance with one of these cars as your partner? Their power isn’t high, so you can flirt at speed without being (too) illegal. Their skinny tires and manual transmissions bring an intimacy that most have forgotten. A decreasing radius curve up ahead? Heel, toe shift. Heel, toe, shift. Car and driver together in sounds and motion. Untied in an intimate road dance.
A car like that would be fun, but I’d miss out on so many other moments that I’ve had with my trucks.
Such as all the animals I’ve brought to the wildlife rescue, or the camping I have done. Fountains, flower beds, and furniture would not have found their way if not for the trucks I’ve owned. I would’ve never made it to work during the Tropical Storms and aftermaths of Hurricanes without the clearance a pickup provides. Twenty three hours on the road would not have been as comfortable in either a Miata or MG as they were in the Silverado. Thirty bags of mulch won’t fit into their trunks as they do in the bed of a Ranger.
Sports cars offer the love of machine and person; pickup trucks offer the ability to share the love with fried and family.
For me, that’s a perfect fit.