If you were to look at my yard, you might think I am a connoisseur of vehicles. In my yard sits a 1989 Chrysler New Yorker, a 1984 Dodge Power Wagon, a 2000 Chevy 1500, and a 1999 Jeep Cherokee.
Why so many vehicles?
I spent eight years in Colorado. Four of them, I spent in the Army. I drove a 2003 Dodge Ram then. Man, I loved that truck. It was a monster, it came with the 5.7 Hemi, leather interior with the Ram stitched into the seat backs, mega cab, it had it all. I got about 8 miles to the gallon. Still, I loved it.
My notes ran 197 bucks a month. It was my daily driver and I thought it was the one thing I was going to keep out of my divorce. Then one day out of the blue, I had a seizure behind the wheel. On base. I hit a F-250 head-on, bounced off it, hit a parked Nissan Altima, bounced off it, hit a building, bounced off it, and ran nose first off into the ditch. All, while I was asleep at the wheel.
Then, I woke up in the hospital. My left hand still has the scar from the glass that cut into the flesh. The ribs on my right side was fractured. I came too restrained to the bed rails. Good times.
To make matters worse, the acting First Sergeant showed up and let me see the photos of my ruined truck. The entire front of my truck was mangled beyond recognition.
I was heartbroken. Over a truck. Pathetic.
After retiring, I had a van and a 1998 Mustang. I was blessed to have these vehicles, I drove them until my license expired. At my lowest point, my mother came and lived with me. The doctor called her said I needed help. Without a second thought, my mother helped me through the darkness.
When I moved home, the first thing I did was try to get my license back. After several bouts with the local DMV, I resorted to contacting the former governor of Mississippi. One email, and I had my license back.
Then, I saved up money to buy me a truck. I didn’t care what kind of truck, I just wanted something that ran. My dad found me a Chevy Cheyenne with a reasonable price tag. It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. White with a gray fender on the left side, paint chips ripped off the bed, and the interior was horrible.
I was the happiest guy in the world. I had lost my license for four years. The truck came with a 350, five speed, and slowly I put money back into it. I bought a maroon seat for it, 400 dollars worth of tires, and I loved to drive it. On the dirt roads around here, that truck would scat.
Maybe, I am a connoisseur of vehicles.
In my opinion, nothing beats a long drive on a dark night, with the radio turned up. It is the simple things that make life worth living. Like a good truck and dirt roads. Now, I want to load up and floor the gas.