My very first car was a red, 1967 Ford Mustang. Red dust (old paint) clung to every individual who attempted to lean against it.
The vinyl top was mostly gone, and the condition of the seats….well, they were bad. I was taught how to use a screwdriver on the starter to start it. Piece by piece the car was revived to it’s almost original state and accessorized with a collection of B. Kliban Cat pillows. It lasted the rest of high school and most of college then I wrecked it. Bummer. It had the coolness factor. As punishment for wrecking the cool car, my parents bought me a beige Chevy Citation and told me I would be paying them for it. Definitely not cool.
I declined the offer and purchased a little silver Fiat Spider convertible before the month was over. The convertible top had to be duct-taped in the winter.
The next phase of my car purchases was not as exciting. My current Saturn Vue has cloth seats, and yes, there are days when I miss those heated leather seats. It’s not the coolest car I’ve ever driven, but it’s pretty reliable and gets me back and forth to work. It’s just not exactly what I need on the weekends.
Enter the farm truck. Ours is a 1993 Chevrolet 3500 known by us as “The Dually.” It belongs to my father-in-law, and he is proud to drive it to do “farm-type” errands that involve more filth than usual.
The farm truck is essential to life in the country. Need some lumber? The farm truck can haul it. No trash pick up? No problem. There is plenty of room on the farm truck. Wearing muddy boots? Hop in the farm truck. The inside is trashed anyway. No one will care. When it comes to cool, there is nothing cooler than driving a farm truck…unless it had some cute pillows in the back.
I’m going to work on that.