In school I learned that it was not appropriate to love objects. Only living persons or creatures are deserving of love according to my teachers. Things are only to be liked or enjoyed. I understand the reasoning behind such thinking but I have to admit that I truly loved my Tacoma truck. From the moment we drove it home in 2014 I knew that it was a beauty that would bring us joy for many years to come. I never imagined how much that Tacoma truck would become intimately tied to our lives.
We had the truck fitted out to pull a trailer that we later purchased to use on vacations. For years we had slept in tents but as we aged our bones began to rebel and make it less and less easy to endure nights on the floor cuddled in sleeping bags or even an upgrade to lying on cots. I suppose that we saw the handwriting on the wall in one of our last ventures inside a tent when it began to bow under the raging of a terrible storm that lit up the inside of our haven allowing us to see the fear in each other’s eyes. When we walked out into the dawn of a new day we saw that all of the other tenters had wisely left the scene and somehow without saying so each of us knew that the time for tenting had passed.
Soon our beautiful truck was pulling a fine trailer that was just the right size for two people. We went everywhere in comfort that we had never before known. Our truck guided us all the way to California like modern day pioneers. During Covid we managed to travel thousands of miles without having to interact with any humans All the while our truck did all of the hard work with hardly a glitch. It seemed to be eternally magical as the years passed one after another.
I was never one to care much about my mode of transportation. Over the years I drove clunkers and fairly reliable cars. The closest I came to having a love affair with an automobile was when I purchased a Honda CRV. It was a reddish maroon beauty with license plates that gave homage to my grandchildren and ended up being its name. GAMMY7 was a honey of a car, perfect for driving to work and even for hauling rugs and tables and other kinds of treasures that a woman finds and brings home. It was surely a good car but I gave it up in order to get that Tacoma. It seemed to be a fair trade even as I felt a bit of grief over losing Gammy 7.
Over twelve years and over 200,000 miles the Tacoma was still as vibrant as ever. I can honestly say that it was the best auto that I have ever driven. I felt incredibly safe behind the wheel, even when the weather was hazardous. We drove it all the way to Maine one summer even as it had begun to age. In many ways it was doing better than my husband and I were. Still it had a few flaws that were beginning to show its age.
The back up camera was not nearly as good as it had once been. Now and again in really sunny weather it became almost useless. Once in awhile it fogged over. I would notice the bells and whistles of the newer cars that people owned and feel a bit sheepish that mine was way behind the technology. Still, I felt brave and confident in that truck. At least it was so until I backed into someone’s car in a crowded parking lot totally unaware that it was behind me. There was a major blind spot that I did not take into account until I heard the big bang of my metal on the door of another auto.
The accident was minor and the Tacoma only suffered a tiny hole in one of the taillights. Our insurance took care of the unfortunate soul who endured the injury to his car. It should not have affected me so much save for a story that my grandfather often told. He was a wise man who taught me much about how to live a good life. When he was ninety years old he backed into a grocery cart in a parking lot without ever seeing that it was behind him. He decided then and there that he was too old to continue driving safely and so he gave away his car that very day and never again sat behind the wheel.
I took his story to heart and began to wonder if I had somehow reached a point of being a danger to others. My younger brother and my sister-in-law had all but given up driving until they found a reliable self driving car that takes them around town. I found myself feeling uncertain when I backed out of any space. My anxiety would not go away, especially on days when the rear camera was blurred. I would crane my neck in a thousand directions taking forever just to back out from my driveway. So I began to rely more and more on just being a passenger in our truck.
Eventually we went to check out hybrid cars from Toyota. We left the dealership with a plug in Prius that was top of the line when it came to cameras and safety features. At first it felt very small compared to the power that my sweet Tacoma had given me but before long I was enjoying the incredible views that literally told me where everyone else on the road was located. I enjoy the beeps and warnings that tell me when I am getting too close to any kind of object. Best of all I am able to do all of my usual errands without ever using even a gallon of gasoline. I won’t go as far as saying that I love this car the way I had a romance with the Tacoma but for now it is a pleasure to drive.
With my new Prius I feel that I am doing something good for the planet while also saving money. It is comfortable and fun to drive even as I have to once again get used to being bullied by folks in huge trucks who don’t want to follow the speed limits in my neighborhood. They never dared ride my back bumper and shoot me the bird when I was in my truck. I suppose that they view a Prius as a wimpy kind of automobile but I am laughing inside as I stand my ground and imagine how expensive their gasoline bills are while I will drive for a long time without ever having to fill my tank. The joke is on them.
I have not yet named the Prius. Nothing has yet come to mind other than maybe “Athena.” My grandkids called the truck Taco Mama which seemed to be just right. Gammy7 was my Honda calling card. Maybe I’ll have a contest to find a suitable moniker for my new ride. Until then I will smile each time I blow past a service station and avoid any parking lot crashes with my cameras and beepers keeping me in line. Here’s to new adventures!
All It Takes Is A Little Love 