Truckin’

And other sorrows…

Yesterday, I discovered I had become a victim of Objectophilia. If that word doesn’t have a special place in your vocabulary, permit me to provide the psychological definition for possible future application: Objectophilia: a condition characterized by strong romantic attachment to specific inanimate objects.

In my case: a truck.

Here’s the sad, almost embarrassing back story…

Thirteen years ago yesterday, I traded my 2007 Toyota Tundra for a 2013. It wasn’t my intention when I pulled into the dealer’s lot. Kicking tires, drooling, and repeatedly patting my wallet while leaving a vapor trail at the exit had become almost a hobby. At the time, I didn’t know these reactions were among the several Early Warning Signs of Sticker Shock.

This day was different.

As I exited my trusty green 2007 (89K miles), this shiny Cayenne Red 2013 quietly pulled in on my passenger side, and out popped this brunette Vision in sprayed-on slacks and a snug blouse, seriously taking the shape out of both.

With a big smile, she said, “Is this your Tundra?”

I smiled back and said, “YephbcIaly!” (or something similarly sophisticated as any married man might say in a similar situation)

As she came around the tail end, she said, “Hi, I’m Cindy; I’m a sales rep here…Are you in the market for a new one?”

“Not really. Just drooling. At the new ones. The trucks. Tundra…”

“How do you like this red one? SR5…all the goodies…bet I can make you an offer you couldn’t refuse!”

She was right. In my defense, I was kinda-sorta lookin’ for a new one. Caught off guard and defenseless, 90 minutes later, I was driving off with my shiny new ride.

Now, 13 years and 162, 488 miles to the day, I gave her up for a 2026 Suburu Outback. Hard to believe, it actually hurt in my chest to hand the keys over to the sales weasel at the dealership.

Romantically speaking, that truck and I shared lots of great memories; mostly hauling a bass boat across several states pursuing the elusive Large and Small Mouth in tournaments or on vaca.

It came with a backup camera that made hitching up the trailer a breeze! No more back up…get out…check…get in…back up some more…get out…check…get in…pull up…get out…check…….That feature alone was worth the $40K!

One morning before sunrise on the way to Smith Mountain Lake (VA), we hit a fawn when Mama dashed out from the woods at the last second. She made it, but not the young ‘un. I’ve taken my share during deer season, but doing the coup degras in the dark on the side of the road was a heartbreaker. The Tundra did her part, and so did I, but…

Mrs. W wouldn’t drive the Tundra. The few hours the 3 of us spent one Sunday morning in an empty mall parking lot, trying parallel parking, getting between the lines, was…amusing, but, along with its size, it cured her of any desire to make friends with my new Bestie; she was very happy to stick with her Highlander.

We shared enough trauma over those 162K miles. Snow, ice, hurricanes, pulling fallen trees off roads and cars out of ditches, going Where No Man Had Gone Before with 4WD. Never got stuck, wrecked, or needed a tow. Aside from the routine oil, tires, filters, and a battery, the right directional signal bulb was the only unscheduled problem she ever had. Not long ago, I read the V8 Toyota installed in the 2012-2019 models was their most dependable, never-have-to-raise-the-hood motor, easily one of the best ever; 350K was not unusual for those lucky/smart enough to have owned one.

Anyone who has enjoyed owning a vehicle with no monthly “car note” can appreciate 10 years of driving “for free”! And I did. Signing up for another round of 36, 48, 60! months of those payments is the best deterrent!

But…time changes trucks and humans in similar ways. We both grow old, start making funny noises and develop “problems”. New models arrive with new gadgets and remarkable improvements, but they’re not “transferable”. While my Big Red Toy stayed in remarkably good shape, always able to perform “as new”, I didn’t. Even with her running boards and grab handles, along with my new hip joints and other minor improvements, getting in/out, accessing the bed, and hoisting the tailgate became problems that eventually made the advantages of owning a truck suddenly unavailable.

With our recent move, “downsizing” became the Word. I had to reconcile that it wouldn’t just apply to furniture and ephemeral “things”; the vehicle situation had to be assessed. My 13-year-old “friend” had to go.

Seeing her in the rearview mirror, parked where I left her, alone at the dealership , looking as bright and shiny as the first day was…difficult. Luckily, just as we left, we came to a traffic light stuck on red long enough to rectify an unexpected vision problem.

Objectophilia. Pretty silly, right? Getting all emotional about leaving a truck? But it wasn’t the truck alone. It was the change, the occasion, reflecting on all the places we had been, “things” that happened here and there, and other memories of 13 years, 7 states, 6 lakes, 2 rivers, 3 dogs, at least two life-saving “close ones”, all with no hassles.

The record book says she has at least 150-250K miles left in her for someone who takes good care.

Congrats – and envy - to the guy who gets her.

BW