Thursday, August 12, 2004 11:41 AM CDT
It may not be pretty, but it keeps on truckin'
BY PENNY WEAVER, Night News Editor
The rest of the nation may be preoccupied with the economy, election-year politics and something about fighting in Iraq, but I'm not.
I can't even hear all the ruckus over the hole somewhere in my new truck's exhaust system.
Well, I use the word "new" loosely. It's new to me, but the only other new thing about it probably is the latest rust spot I noticed on one side.
A few months ago, I was at an auction and looked over this junker as the sale was getting started. I was pretty interested in finding an old, small truck to bum around in, but I kept my "poker" face on and just glanced at it, trying to appear as though I didn't really care. I've never played poker, actually, but if it's as much fun as an auction, I just might have to try it.
I noticed the truck was a Ford Ranger (I prefer Chevy), and had seen in the sale bill that it was a 1989. It had a topper and a bed littered with junk. It was dirty but had four good tires. On the other hand, the front end obviously had been wrecked -- and some reflectors were missing. It was an automatic. That's about all I noticed.
I knew it ran because the auctioneer started it up to jump an old grain truck next to it before both of them sold. So I thought I'd at least watch it sell, mostly out of curiosity. Before I knew it, the auctioneer dropped the starting bid to $100 and no one bid. So I raised my hand, all casual and like, "What the heck." No one else bid at first, and I thought -- behind my poker face, of course -- that I just might get this little junker for $100. But a lady bid it up and we got to $200. I decided I wouldn't go over $225, even though the truck probably was worth it, because I wasn't that much in the mood to mess with it.
She quit bidding, and I got the truck for $200.
I laughed all the way to the insurance office, my first stop. I wasn't laughing because I got a bargain, but I got a kick out of the, um, character of the truck. The windshield was cracked, albeit below the halfway point and not all the way through. The paint was largely intact but in several different "shades" of black, and a few rusty spots showed in the body. There was about a one-and-a-half-inch gap between the left side of the hood and the front left quarter panel.
I put my hands at the traditional 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock positions on the steering wheel, only to find that if I wanted to go forward in a straight line, my hands when held in that position ended up closer to 8 o'clock and 12 o'clock. Turning a corner took both hands and a lot of movement.
Hm. Could the alignment be a little off?
The shocks felt almost nonexistent, with the slightest bump in the road jostling me like Jello on the back of a galloping horse (I've been watching too much of Larry The Cable Guy). The radio picked up a variety of fuzz, static and squealing, high-pitched whines.
But on the other hand, the engine ran. And it was cheap.
My brother-in-law, who's a handy mechanic, laughed and laughed when he saw the truck. We took a drive and he "tested" the brakes -- yup, they work. He noted a little exhaust leak under the hood. Pretty easily fixed, he said, but it doesn't have to be repaired -- "You just might get a headache after you drive a while," he advised.
I like to drive with the windows down anyway. The sliding back window opens easily, since it doesn't quite close all the way to begin with. That's OK, because I don't have a key for the doors.
So here I am almost six months later, still driving this old junker. I'm surprised, and not just because the truck has taken me 1,000 or so miles so far and still starts (usually on the second try). You see, I'm a worrier, and I always thought that having a junker would drive me nuts. I thought I'd constantly worry about it breaking down. What would I do if it needed major repairs that I couldn't afford?
But somehow, I feel the opposite way. My car is financed, and I have no choice but to fix it and keep it going if something goes wrong. But this truck -- oh what the heck, just let it break down. Every day, I expect it to. Then I'll junk it for parts and go to another auction.
I'll probably never again find such a bargain, I know. But I can't put a price on all the fun I've had with it. I cleaned it up and took off the topper (I'll sell it to anyone interested for 20 bucks). I spent a little on rugs for the floor and a caddy so I have a place to put my jostled Diet Coke in the cab. The tape player keeps flipping over to both sides of a cassette, but that still works to play a portable CD player hooked up through a tape and wire. So I have tunes.
I keep motor oil on hand, since the truck needs about a quart every two weeks. I do wonder a little about the battery, since it's held in place partly by a piece of particle board. But I keep a flashlight and other items in the cab and in the glove compartment, which stays closed via a metal hook and eye similar to what you might use on your back screen door.
The exhaust system is still loud, but not offensive. The passenger side door is kind of hard to open, and the tailgate won't come down unless you bang hard on the inside of it while you pull the lever.
I never dreamed I'd get such a laugh and so much fun out of an old clunker.
I know people who like to tell their friends how much something cost. "This vase came from my great uncle and it's worth $1,200," they'll say. Or, "I just bought a new pickup for $30,000 -- it's loaded!"
But I like to brag about how little something cost. I love a bargain. I do admit that when I'm out shopping or at an auction, I have to keep my mom's words in mind: "It's not a bargain if you don't need it."
But I've got a junker truck that cost less than my dog -- it's almost as much fun, too. And who doesn't need that?
Contact Penny Weaver at pweaver@jg-tc.com or 238-6863.
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