I never wanted a truck. Let me say it differently: the truck is the last thing I ever wanted. Especially in the current (bad pun intended) climate. I can just picture all my liberal I'd bike to work if I could friends making snide comments. And all my conservative friends secretly hoping that the truck is the sign of the things to come. Well, it isn't.
It's just that Natalia and I took some time off to travel across this beautiful country. And when we started making lists of all the things we wanted to take with us; and when we pictured our bikes, our diving gear, our hiking gear, our camping gear and - last but absolutely not least - our computers crammed in the trunk and back seats of our poor sedan, we came to the conclusion that nothing else will do.
Besides, we kind of earned it: I'd like to think our carbon footprint was way below average over last 3-4 years with me working mostly from home and Natalia walking to work. Time to spend those credits.
So we've got a blue Nissan Frontier. It has 2 normal seats, two really uncomfortable jump seats in the back of the cabin, and it has a bed. It's going to get a nice cap soon so that we can put all this real and imaginary gear somewhere and not worry too much about losing it on the way.
As far as trucks go in this country it's smallish. But for us it's big. We could probably carry the first car we ever owned on its bed. We could probably live on its bed. Well, maybe we'll have to at some point.
In any case: the truck is here and it serves as our Rubicon. It means we are going. Not sure when and not sure where, but we have no other choice. The chance of calling the whole thing off now is approximately the same as the chance of me parallel parking our new truck in Boston.