First was the old, white Ranger that my dad drove and my sister drove. A handful of awkward first kisses on that vinyl bench seat. That one got T-boned.
Next was the green Chevy. The one I learned to sleep in. The first trip into the mountains with Allison, on a whim, Fourth of July three years back. She was terribly allergic and I almost drove all the way back to town in the middle of the night. But it passed and we woke up to streaking sunlight and walked hand in hand down the unpaved road. That was before the dog.
Now it’s me and the red Ranger. Me and my dog. He likes his space in the extended cab behind the front passenger seat. And with the sleep platform I built into the bed, I can go without the slightest planning. Stove, pots, pans, ropes, rubber boots, extra fuel, canned food, water, hatchet, it’s all back there ready to go. This truck went all the way down the coast and through Arizona. Nights in Grand Canyon and Moab, Utah. And with the double sleeping bag set up and the lined canopy, I’ve been comfortable through 20 degree nights in Montana and blasting wind up in the high plateau of Eastern Washington.
We smash up roads built for jeeps. Go into 4x4 for deep snow. The chains never come out but they’re back there just in case. Tens of thousands of miles on this rig already. Swear I never feel more at home.
-Submitted by Andrew Mark Snyder, Seattle, Wahington
A little feature I put together for Your Pickup Story. I’m really fond of the direction of this blog. Check em out.