It wasn't an easy acquisition at all, but it was well worth all the hassles I went through during my break from this damned Interwide-Web thingy. My late, lamented Jimmy, aka "Mein Kampfwagen Mark 1" has a worthy successor, with an equally worthy tale to be told.
A little over a year ago, it looked like my passion for "grunt buggies" had come full circle when my brother sold me his 1989 Chevy Suburban. Here was THE classic granddaddy of all sport-utility vehicles, complete with arguably the most revered and recognizable automotive silhouette {the station wagon}, which ranks right up there alongside the original VW Beetle and the Ford Model T. For my money it was indeed coming full circle, vehicle-wise. My very first car was a big Chevy wagon with a stout 350 small block for a heart - and my new 'Burb {Mein Kampfwagen MK 2 } was likewise a big Chevy wagon with a stout 350 small block for a heart, and 4WD to boot. I lost no time in planning how I was going to restore, modify, and otherwise hot-rod the hell out of it; the time for my very first "hobby vehicle" had finally come, or so it seemed. True to form, Fate had other plans.
Barely two months later, Old Blue IV's TH700R4 transmission gave up the ghost altogether; my nifty "Square 'Burb" was a goner, and I was once again without transport. Circumstances that I furiously but vainly rebelled against dictated that the scrap value I realized from selling OB4 had to go into the basic keeping-body-and-soul-together fund. Wheels went out of the question indefinitely, and I likely chopped a good decade or more off my life wallowing WAY deep in the sea of frustration and livid bitterness I'd become accustomed to since the start of 2009.
For the next nine months I relied on borrowed-from-the-family wheels; worked like a pair of manic demons hustling up enough bread for a DECENT new ride; scoured Craigslist, Auto Trader, and Hemmings on a daily basis; had no less than eight promising possibilities go south on me before a bargain could be struck; and finally was willing to settle for a damn MOPED if it would restore my mobility - as well as my independence. The holidays came and went, and my depression began to return with a vengeance. I'd seen all this mess many, MANY times before, and was pretty sure of the eventual {negative} outcome at the end. My penchant for black humor went wickedly acidic as I revised my needs one notch lower, all the way to the bottom - we're talking skateboards and pogo-sticks here, Fellow Babies.
The Good Lord had other notions though. A week before my birthday last month, I was stunned to see a certain Pacific Green beauty on Craigslist - it had just been listed within the last 20 minutes; it was in my price range; and was being sold by one of my coworkers, no less! I'd actually seen and fallen in love with it when I started my latest gig September last, but I figured Bobby had no intention whatsoever of letting such a sweet little ride get away from him. Well, circumstances eventually forced Bobby to find a more practical vehicle for his growing family than a coupe-wagon, no matter how sweet it was - and our Good Lord made sure that I was first in line to jump on the offer when it suddenly came up. Bob was quite happy to sell to a coworker / friend as opposed to Joe Stranger looking to gyp him down on the bread; and I was quite happy to answer his asking price without haggle, seeing as it would help him close on his new minivan. LSS, we closed the deal in one day, and I happily drove "TR" {Mein Kampfwagen MK 3} home for the first time a scant two weeks ago, a day before Bobby happily drove his new minivan home. Win-win for the both of us, no?
Now, those of you who know me well might wonder how I, a diehard GM loyalist, would wind up owning a FORD, of all things? That's easy - remember, this scenario was totally orchestrated by Our Lord; all I had to do was lose my silly material attachment to a brand name, and I'd wind up with exactly what I originally lost so painfully seven years previously, albeit in somewhat different outer garb. Lesson learned, Reward granted, simple as that. To be completely candid though, it took me one hell of a lot longer to learn, and then totally UNDERSTAND said lesson, than it did for me to type the last three lines here. And you know what? TR really IS the equal of his predecessor James, and is even better in some areas. At 210 horsepower, TR boasts twenty more horses than my old Jimmy; ironically he also equals the power of my late Square 'Burb, but with two less cylinders, and about half a ton less weight. The latter two facts add up to one neat one, which came clear to me the instant I put me new ride through his first stress-test - TR has the makings of a SERIOUS Q-ship, if I carefully play my cards right, hence his nickname honoring Teddy Roosevelt. Speak softly but carry a BIG stick, dig?
On a side note, this past week one of our local talk-radio dudes did a whole hour on "midlife-crisis" cliche`s, including vehicles of choice. Not the proverbial red convertible, mind you. These days, the clich`e is a black SUV, preferably an Escalade or a Mercedes! Humble Jeep-clones like my buggy just don't do the do, nor does it appeal much to the "Don't Shoot / whilst I loot 22" chrome rims" crowd at the opposite end of the age spectrum {thank God}. Nope, my new baby is perfectly in synch with my newfound overall philosophy which also came as a Lesson from Our Lord; Thou shalt practice Humble Stealth diligently and above all else, in all things and all ways. No midlife crisis here; a perpetual kid on Christmas morning is more like it, thanks to God's Mercy. It feels bloody well SWEET, which is a pretty new one on me after SO much mucking about in the Deep Blues jungle for far too long.
On top of all this, the Blessings God lavished on me have also allowed a rare chance for "political comeuppance" in a completely dignified manner. My defection from the General, and embrace of the FoMoCo is simple payback for the government bailouts of our automakers - which Ford resolutely and steadfastly refused to participate in, on general principle. And what's more, the number two vehicle on the list of the outrageously corrupt and totally immoral "cash for clunkers" money-laundering scheme - er, ah, I mean "bill" just happened to be the Ford Explorer Sport - need I elaborate on, OR relish my karma-reaping / abused-animal-rescuing glee even more?
And thus did the last piece in the puzzle of my rehabilitation finally fall into place; like I said at the outset, TR is a true Gift From God. And no wonder - aside from hustling bread and a ride, my hiatus offline was spent in getting right with The Lord. I'd like to think He's pleased with my baby-steps so far, hence the Pacific Green gem I've been nattering on about - doing the grunt-work earns one a grunt-buggy, kapish?
Permit a sidebar on that paint hue, Pacific Green. It's been a standard Ford color since at least the mid 1980's, if not earlier. It got wildly popular as the base color of the Eddie Bauer limited editions FoMoCo has issued over the last quarter-century. But seeing it as the sole color, or with a different accent color than EB tan is a fairly rare thing. I dig it to death; it's a rich, cheerful, and ridiculously cool tint that doesn't loudly call attention to itself, and is anything but "midlife crisis." A perfect color to complement my new outlook, big picture-wise.
And that's about it for this one, my Dear Friends. There are a few themes and notions in this entry that I'll be fleshing out as we go forward. So please stay tuned, fire up the colortinis, and thanks LOADS for all the prayers, thoughts, and well-wishes. I truly appreciate them all; they really did help tremendously. You lot are a fine bunch of Friends, bar NONE!!!!
Diggez-vous, Mon petit-skonks-de-pew?
More shortly...
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