(1990 Ford F-250 Gas powered pick up truck.)
I have been feeling a little inverted of late- or maybe not inverted, per se, not that there is anything wrong with it, but maybe “sidewise.”
The working thing is losing its appeal. I am not going to the office any more- and the long road trip and the impending end of summer have me almost as distracted as the world situation, which is hurtling sidewise through some 8th Century hall of mirrors.
Other than that, things are great, right?
(The Hubrismobile at Refuge Farm. Coolest and most sophisticated car I will ever own.)
Over the last two thousand miles on the road, I have naturally had too much time to think. I love the fine German engineering of the Mercedes- the GLK-350 was a great decision, when I ditched the finest, most fun car I will ever own- the CLK-500 eight cylinder Cabriolet that radiated a certain unmitigated Hubris.
I have had enough of that in my life, or better said, the full consequences of my intrinsic have not caught up with me. Yet.
I am sure there is time enough for that, as Mr. Kipling observed about East and West, when we are all standing at “God’s great judgment seat.”
That can happen in a New York Minute, a matter I contemplated during one of those moments on the eternally-under-construction Pennsylvania Turnpike. You know- the stretches of Jersey Barriers that hem you in with no shoulder and an eighteen-wheeler drifting into your lane…
Anyway, the splendid handling of the Panzer made most of the journey a no-brainer, and I bounced between the unbelievable news and classic rock with restless ease.
Watching my fellow Americans motor along- the long-haul trucks and campers and trailers- I began to think about what is next in terms of wheels.
I don’t consider the Syclone to be a real truck. It is more a Corvette dressed up in Sonoma pick-up fenders, a high performing toy. Real trucks are something else much more emotional. Trucks carry things. Trucks move things and haul them- trailers for horses and firewood and even cars. Trucks move you from one home to another. You can sleep in them, if there isn’t something better to do. Trucks make you free in a uniquely American open road sort of way.
Out in Circus City, Joe lead me through the cemetery to find Cole Porter in his truck. He is an American Motors enthusiast, of course, but trucks are a category unto themselves. Looking for a decent motel one night on the Ohio road, I thought how cool it would be to have a trailer or an RV that I could just pull over in a likely place and spend the night.
So I started looking at the trucks on the road. There is a reason that of all the vehicles sold in America in 2013, three of the top five selling vehicles in America, three of them are pick-up trucks.
In fact, the top selling car in America- for the 32nd consecutive year, is a truck. Or rather, a family of them: the Ford F-series trucks. Regular, Heavy Duty and Super Duty, diesel or gas. That makes it at the start of the Reagan Administration. That is staying power.
(2013 Ford F-150 pick up truck, most popular vehicle in America for the 32nd year).
I have a minor love affair with a 1990 F-250, but I am afraid we will have to get to that in the morning. And trailers, of course. But that goes without saying. Plus, it is going to be awfully handy to have a way to get a load of stuff out of town in a hurry, if it comes to that.
Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303