2015.11.02 Adieu Mon Tyrannosaur
As one might well imagine, a 1985 Toyota pickup is not the safest vehicle in the world. It had never been allowed to transport the kids, but it also wasn't really safe enough for me to fly along at freeway speeds every weekend to go mountain biking. It really made a lot more sense as a cheap urban commuter and a yard work hauler, but those days are gone.
So, grudgingly, I sold it.
Criagslist ad:
This truck has the legendary 22R carburated inline 4-cylinder motor. It may be worshipped by future civilizations for being immortal.
2WD, 5-speed manual transmission, 224,000 miles. Mostly white.
Everything that matters on this truck works.
By that definition, here is a list of things that don't matter: radio, passenger side mirror, heater, heater fan.
Additionally, here is a list of things that that didn't matter when the truck was new: power steering, power brakes, air conditioning, power windows, ABS, airbags.
Over the course of a week, I got hundreds of inquiries. Hundreds What's crazy, is that almost none of them appeared to overtly be scams. Even more crazy was the fact that essentially none of them could function well enough to make an appointment to see the truck. Basically, the demographic of humans looking for 30-year-old Toyota pickup trucks are mostly ADD and/or relatively low-functioning. Lots of crazy. My first-grader would have been embarrassed by some of their compositions.
Then, magically, out of the throng came a lovely obsessive young lady who absolutely adored the truck and forced a stack of cash in my hands while she made happy sounds and clapped delightedly. I feel like the mighty Tyrannosaurus is correctly situated. So that's something.
What an utterly fantastic little vehicle. It saved my Porsche. It was great fun. It worked hard. It helped my play hard. It helped countless friends and family do truckly things. I cannot conceive of a more noble vehicle.
Farewell my Tyrannosaur.