Ol’ Red

Pretty much every farm that I know of has a farm truck. Or if not a pickup truck, a vehicle of some variety that is specified as the beat-up, dusty (both inside and out), animal-or-hay-bale-hauling mode of transportation with a miscellaneous collection of nuts, bolts, tools, and equipment manuals on the passenger side floorboard and possible grass growing in the bed. Our current farm truck is Ol’ Red, a 1997 F150 Ford with who-knows-how-many miles on it because the odometer is stuck. Leo didn’t think it had a ridiculous amount of miles, but what it might lack in mileage, it makes up for in personality.

I learned this quite intimately over that past couple of weeks while the Nissan was undergoing extensive repairs. The Nissan and I are not currently on speaking terms. I actually feel more bonded to Ol’ Red after just three weeks than I am with the Nissan after two years. That one doesn’t even have a name; that says a lot.

Some people have said that I am a little quirky (or a lot depending on who you talk to!). Maybe that is why I connected so well with Ol’ Red. Quirky is just the tip of the iceberg on this farm truck. When you need specific, multi-step instructions on starting it, beyond “turn the key”, you know you’re in for a wild ride.
1.) Wiggle the gear shift so it goes into neutral or it won’t start. Turn the key and it should start.
2.) Step on the brake and now go into drive.
3.) Release the parking brake. But when you go to park it (or rather put it into more like neutral again) , do not forget to put the parking brake back on or the truck will roll away. “Park” apparently isn’t a thing anymore with Ol’ Red.
4.) Just leave the key in the cup holder when you are done.

Simple, right? I have become a pro at starting up, but I have forgotten to release the parking brake one or two times. Oops. Why does it smell hot? Hmmm. And Step #4? One time I brought the key into the house and promptly lost the ONLY key in existence for Ol’ Red. We looked everywhere except for obviously the right spot; to date this key is still MIA. Leo had to purchase a whole new ignition set-up. I guard that key like it is diamond encrusted gold.

A quirk that is not Ol’ Red’s fault is that this new key does not match the door locks. I learned that after locking myself out at Life Fitness Management. I needed to get to the college for clinic and could not wait for Triple A to rescue me. I remembered the little window behind the seats. It had just enough room for my body to wriggle in head-first to my hips and I could reach to unlock the door before wriggling in reverse to get myself back out. I am a little afraid that it looked more like twerking but I am trying not to think about that. Ol’ Red didn’t seem to mind all the commotion but if he had, I am sure there would have been a loud, very sudden horn blast. That’s another quirk. I can’t say how many times I have barely touched the steering wheel and a warning blasts out to innocent bystanders. 

Yes, that’s the little window!

While the horn works very well, there are other important, rather necessary features that do not. Like the gas gauge, speedometer, and engine temp. NONE of these work. I am always on empty, driving 0 mph, with a cold, cold engine. This makes following the speed limit a matter of following another car that looks reasonable in speed  and hoping for the best. I feel like a rebel at times. Rolling down the window enhances this rebel mode as the wind whips my hair into a frenzy. However , window-down mode is a matter of survival on hot days as the AC is also nonfunctional. Any air coming forth from the vents was akin to dragon’s breath. Any time I needed the window up, like making phone calls for work by the side of the road and the traffic noise made it difficult to hear, induced much perspiration. 

I lost 6.2 pounds of sweat. 

Dear, sweet Ol’ Red, the Nissan is back in my life now, repaired and revving to go. But I will miss you; you served me well. Maybe we can do it again sometime. I am sure the Nissan will see to that.

Love,
Dianne