For the majority of my childhood, I lived in Pembroke Ontario, in the middle of the Ottawa Valley. The Valley is a special place; it can't be described, only experienced. To give an illustration of the Valley's spirit, one of my classmates' birthday parties featured his driving through his living room in his pickup truck. Classy.
Pickup trucks are popular in the Valley. Next to snowmobiles, they were by far the most ubiquitous vehicles on the road. Trucks there are a status symbol. If you're on the up-and-up, which usually means you're dining at the Best Western's Sunday brunch rather than King Burger, you don't get a Corvette or a BMW (or that sweet Jag I posted a few days ago). No, instead you buy the Harley Davidson edition F-350, throw giant tires on it, lift the suspension to clear those tires, and drive down main street (only in good weather, mind you), showing everyone how much your 22's sparkle in the sun. You know what else sparkles? That guy from Twilight's face. You wouldn't want to showcase that plastered on your truck, would you?
I like trucks, I really do. They're efficient, practical, versatile and dependable, and when used for their proper purposes, they're an excellent buy. I've been mulling over the idea of getting a small truck, like a Ranger or a B-Series, once Katie and I get married, and the only real concern I have is the lack of real back seats.
Anyway, getting back to the Valley, one very fond memory I have is being over at a friend's house when I was around 6 or 7. I don't remember who that friend was, but who cares, that's not what's important. What's important is the wicked-awesome truck I found residing in an old shed in back of the house. It was identical to this one, for sale in Welland. '43 Chevy, yellow, nothing on the back.
Granted, this one is in slightly better condition than the one from my childhood, but that doesn't change its allure. It perhaps has a face only a mother could love, but that's what makes it endearing; it has a personality all its own. The narrow, stubby proportions and the cramped little cabin makes it charming in the same way that a MINI or a Beetle is, and its bright yet cheery face makes it look like it belongs in a country music video.
The guy doesn't have a price listed, going instead with the whole 'best offer' thing. It kinda bugs me; he could be expecting a reasonable price, or he could be one of those 50-something boomers who are convinced their blast-from-the-past is priceless because "it holds so many memories" or something. But regardless of price, if I was trying to woo Taylor Swift, this would be my conveyance of choice.