A love letter to my ugly truck:
Of all the stuff that's passed through my driveway I think the Ranger has been my favorite and I can't explain why. It's not the best car I've owned (by far!) The best car to call my driveway home was probably one of the BMWs, maybe the uber-clean 318ti. Somehow, inexplicably, I probably get more enjoyment from a short drive in the crappy Ranger than I ever got from either of the Ultimate Driving Machines.
I shouldn't like it. It's beat, rusty, and loud. I have to get out and wiggle a wire under the hood sometimes to make the blower fan work so the windows will defrost. Thanks to a crappy suspension lift it bounces, shimmys, wanders, and feels like it's going to tip over when I approach a corner. The 2.3 coughs and stutters when it's cold or humid because the previous owner thought ripping the emissions control stuff off the engine would make it run better. The auto journalists write about things like "steering response" and "shifter feel" but this little truck has lived it's life in ignorant bliss, unaware that such terms even exist.
Its one redeeming quality might be that it looks a little bit badass, at least until you get up close. Then the imperfections come into focus and you realize that the Midwestern climate has had it's way with the poor thing. Someone tried to cover up the rust spots at one point but the cancer was persistent. Now there are even bigger rust spots to go with the primer splotches and the patches of brushed-on white paint that don't quite match the factory color.
Corrosion has taken its toll mechanically too. The knockoff 90s-tastic rims are crusty at the hubs, the body mounts are barely hanging on, and there is a fist sized hole in the muffler. The resulting cacophony is, to be honest, a little flatulent. How loud is it? Let's just say my neighbors always know when I leave for work.
And yet I love the thing. Like I said, I shouldn't like it. I just wrote three paragraphs about how E36 M3ty this particular truck is. But, for some reason I'm happy when I drive it. It must have that elusive and mysterious quality we call, "character." I'm in a better mood if I take the truck to work. If I've had a bad day I'll feel better by the time I get home. Our driveway is only one car length wide and my wife's Focus usually gets the end spot so if I want to drive one of my cars I've got to move things around. I find myself moving her car so I can drive the truck more than I ever did when I had the BMW.
Somehow this little piece of mid-90s steel has wormed its way into my my heart and I will miss it when it's not in my driveway anymore. You know how I said the body mounts are rusty? One of these days I know something structural will break and then it won't be safe to drive anymore. I bought this truck cheap, planning to drive it through the winter and then move it on for a profit to some high school kid when spring came. But, now I don't think I'm going to do that. I'm going to keep it as long as I can and the thought that it might not last more than a couple more seasons makes me feel genuinely sad inside.