Recently, we received a letter from Toyota talking possible rust on the frame of our Tacoma. In true Gail and Workaholic fashion, we didn’t really read it, and sort of just tossed it aside. My dad meanwhile, also gets said letter, and also does the same. (gee…where do I get it??) He does though, take his truck to his trusty mechanic to get a once over. Trusty mechanic says, “Umm…you have a hole rusted through the frame of your truck. Really shouldn’t leave town, much less pull a fishing boat to Canada with your 2 grandsons as precious cargo.” Oh, the luck. You see, my dad’s truck is in pristine condition, with the exception of 2 holes in the frame. (I guess that is bad) The tires are good, the engine is great, the transmission is fabulous, and hasn’t gone through a single clutch. Our truck, on the other hand, could use a little replacing.
We acquired the truck from my brother-in-law, it was his first vehicle when he turned 16, a sparkly, shiny, brand spanking new purple Toyota Tacoma. He washed it on a bi-weekly basis, barely allowed shoes in it, much less my husband, much less ever let him drive it. So you can imagine his reluctance to let us acquire it. You see, Workaholic is a little hard on things. His mother once told me that he never actually grew out of a pair of shoes as a toddler, he destroyed them first. He would take apart radios and give up trying to put them back together. I am fairly convinced the reason why he knew how to fix all the holes in the drywall and doors that his over exuberant roommates in college created during Monday Night Raw was because he would do these things himself as a child and he had to fix them before mom found out. He knew how to spackle by the time he was 4.
Anyway, our truck is just vulgar. Being a passenger in it could make an astronaut get carsick with the rough ride. The cupholder is permanently stuck out over the radio, (instead of being able to push it back in the dashboard) because of the effect of sticky Pepsi that spilled one too many times. I tried vacuuming it once, but the dirt that lives in the carpet refused to move. There is also a fine layer of dust or dirt that coats every surface. When you pat the seat, a cloud comes up. (Oooo, pretty). The dashboard, I discovered last night, is also spotted with Red Bull, and there is Pepsi splashed across the windshield, which BTW, is cracked. The CD player and tape deck stopped working years ago, also the victim of too much Pepsi consumption. You can have either hot heat or cold A/C, nothing in-between. And the brakes squeal. But the damn thing starts every time, can pull a boat, and can plow through a couple of feet of snow, no problem. And apparently, there is no rusted holes in our frame warranting Toyota to give us 150% of Kelly Blue Book Suggested Retail Value of excellent (HAHAHAHA!!!) condition. Had we been forced to sell it back to Toyota, it would have sucked buying a new truck, along with the subsequent car payment, but how nice would it be to ride in a vehicle that you don’t have to shower every time you get out of it?
In the meantime, my poor dad has to buy a new truck and give back his perfectly good (with the exception of 2 giant holes in the frame) 11 year old pick ‘em up, and hopes to get it in time for Canada. All manual, 4 cylinder transmission, 2 wheel drive of glorious new Tacoma. At least it’ll pull a boat without cracking in half.