That Little Red Thing

A few years ago we traded our 1990 Honda Civic hatchback for the most fuel-efficient pickup truck we could find: a 2WD 2001 Toyota Tacoma with a 2.4L 4-cylinder engine. The periwinkle Civic had been known as the "Blue Meanie" because it obviously wasn't, and the Tacoma is known as the "Red Menace" because it obviously isn't. So far it has been the perfect vehicle for us, seating 4 up front when necessary and confining multiple dogs (often wet) in the back. It's also handy for dump runs, trips to Ikea, and moving mountain bikes around.

Given that our second car is 1990 Mazda Miata (thanks mom!) we feel completely justified in referring to the Red Menace as "the truck" around here. Given that we live in Fraser Valley, this designation seems laughable in context of most other vehicles on the road. A few months ago we treated the Red Menace to some new tires. I approached the fellow at the KalTire reception desk and said "I'm here to get new tires on my truck." He peered over my shoulder, pointed out the window and said "that little red thing?"

Today the guy I had contracted to move 150 bales of hay from Agassiz to Deroche crapped out on me. Tonka is scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow, and it would seem hospitable to feed the poor fellow so I took the Red Menace to pick up a load. The very kind dairy farmer from whom I'm buying this hay eyed me skeptically as I slip-slided over his narrow bridge and into his very slushy courtyard. His comment when I came to a halt? "At least you've got good tires." I'm happy to report that the Red Menace holds exactly six bales -- just 24 more trips to go!