If one has a dog or cat that they have had for a decade it becomes part of the family. As it gets older and more infirmed, the tendency is to lower one’s expectations for its activities. Sometimes, when one gets lucky, both owner and pet gets to choose the time to say goodbye. Well, that time has come me. Luckily it is not Fido, nor Mittens, but it is for my 2000 Chevy install truck that does not have a real name, but has been called many things. By the time this is posted, it will have seen its last days on a road—in one piece.
Ten years ago I needed to replace my aging Dakota. I was tired of over-the-rail storage and having an exposed tool box. One of my friends at a dealership was prepping an unusual vehicle for sale. An electrician had traded in his truck that had a “sport-utility” bed. There was a local truck body manufacturer that created a service truck that had six cabinets but had built the bed to the same width as a stock one. The truck was perfect since it was narrow enough to maneuver on car lots without creating more work for vendor body shops and risk for my liability insurer. I could carry far more tools and supplies without fear of theft and most important, I could give my dog a larger passenger seat.
I bought that truck with 74,000 miles on it and by the time I hand it over the recycler, I will have added 210,000 more. I can’t say it has been a bad truck. It has only left me stranded once in a decade—far less than I can say for dealership managers and ex-wives. However in the past year it has drained me of finances faster than a 20-something with a rich sugar daddy. In 2010, I rebuilt the entire front end and steering box. Brake rotors and pads were replaced with not-so-perfect results. Only in the past month have further repairs loomed. The fuel pump was failing, tires had reached their limit, electrical short in rear tail lights and an ominous ticking sound emanating from the engine.
Reaching the decision to buy a replacement truck has not come easy. I just crashed through my sixth decade, a time one should be thinking more about what kind of easy chair to buy rather than an installation vehicle. There are far too many glass concerns in my town I could thank for prolonging my career. Yet, while much can be said for their depressing profits (and craftsmanship), sadly I have been the poster child of cost plus pricing for decades. If anyone believes that business model is a road map to financial success, I would argue otherwise.
I was not overcome with creativity when picking a replacement vehicle. I have a large distaste for mini pick-up purveyors so buying an 80′s model of a Japanese truck was not an option. I toyed with buying a used cargo van, but in addition to undesirable driving characteristics over my daily mountain freeway commute, accessibility to the contents of the storage cabinets was an issue. Cost is always a concern and durability is as well. I ended up finding a 03 Chevy 2500 with a Knappheide service body that only had 30,000 miles on the odometer. It was a USN base truck sold as surplus. It is practically the same stripped truck I had before but far newer with wider cabinets. Same color so my regular accounts, as well as my dog, won’t be confused.
The one thing I am both dreading and fixated on is the day of the actual switch. I have literally become a shop on wheels when it comes to clips, moldings and an assortment of salvaged parts. I must have six sets of rear glass mounts for older Explorers, lift gate hardware for various vehicles and all sorts of connectors for all sorts of cars. Should I employ the theory that if you haven’t needed it for five years then toss it? I can’t say that I would want to throw out a mirror mount for a 50s or early 60s era Ford. Those are the type of choices that one could end up paying for some time in the future.
One thing I am looking forward to is being organized. That has always been a transient state of mind for me. I figure one side of the new service vehicle will be dedicated to tools and the other for materials and support items. I have super scraper blades in my tool box and in at least two different locations—same with cold knife blades. Got wire? I have spools stashed in various places. I have had my Express behind my truck seat because the case would never fit anywhere in my cabinets and over time almost every cabinet lock became inoperative making overnight security a question mark. I’ve also upset the dog every time I fold the seat forward to retrieve it. Batteries, chargers and gloves can now all have a proper place to call home. The biggest change is that I plan to rid myself of my tool box. I have always had a Snap-On five tray top box with a lockable cover. I simply am tired of sliding the box out on my tailgate, dealing with unleveled surfaces and worrying about theft. I plan to dedicate one cabinet to those tools and have a carrying tray to hold the ones used on almost every job. Why not—I’ve got working locks again.
Getting something different is always a time of excitement yet I feel a wistfulness of sorts for the veteran being place out to pasture (literally). I really can’t give it a “perfect day” before pulling the plug on “Old Faithful.” I guess I could add a quart of synthetic oil to the crankcase as a “last meal.” I’m not sure what else I can do to thank a ton of metal for helping me make it through a decade, unscathed.
It will live on in a way. I expect its hood, doors, and cab among other parts will see the road again. My 24” nine lite, Burco glass rack will also have a new life as well since I am replacing it too. One of my service advisors’ friends wants to salvage it off my truck to use as a surfboard carrier. A use, I would bet, the designers and distributors did not ever have in mind for it—only inCalifornia, my friends (a land where square pegs are constantly trying to fit into round holes). My wife is very proud of the fact that I have chosen to recycle. I have only made one request of the wrecking yard—that this truck will be dismantled for parts. I just don’t want to pull up to a glass distributor and see my old truck staring back at me being used by some faux paus installer. I might just be tempted to pull out a firearm and put that truck out of its misery right then and there.
