An Ode to the American (Japanese) Truck.

Yeah, It's a Toyota for me, but it could be something else too, anything really.

Backroads and distant travels…

“Freedom Machines” a friend calls them. And I get it. I’ve owned a lot of cars and trucks that I’d consider freedom machines over the years. And I’ve owned their counterparts too, which offered anything but freedom, that wouldn’t take me anywhere I asked and constantly asked for money and repair. A few of them I’ve loved anyway. A few I’ve hated. Some just simply did the job, but weren’t that good at it.

The bar is pretty high for what I love in a car. Speed, however, or even acceleration, often the first metric talked about by car reviewers and enthusiasts alike, is not on the list of things I need, though I’ve come to realize with my newest love that speed is not necessarily a hinderance either. So many of my freedom machines of the past were defined by their slowness so much that I came to think of it an admirable quality and a spec that is required, but alas… Never say never.

My first automotive love was a 1986 Toyota 4Runner, passed down to me after my older brothers had moved on to newer cars. I inherited it around 1991 and proceeded to put 300K miles on it before it left my hands many years later. I explored more country and saw more new land in that car than any other I’ve ever owned. It was rusted. It was a little tired and sagged in the back end, but it was still running great. It took me on countless tours of the midwest, Appalachia, south, west, southwest, and west coast. I regularly slept in the back. This was before the term ‘overland’ had ever been uttered in North America. I got it stuck on remote winter roads. I pushed it through the desert. I based my life out of it for long stretches throughout the years. I asked, in hindsight, a lot of that car, and it always gave back. The only time it ever left me stranded was on a remote mountain road west of Missoula, it took a stick in the sidewall and having once lived in the Midwest I’d not realized it’s spare might be locked to the undercarriage with rust. I don’t blame the car. I blame me.

After I sold that I moved over the years through several cars, various Toyotas, Subarus, Volkwagens, a Honda, and finally a few years ago, back into a Land Cruiser, a very similar beast to the 4Runner. That was a 1992 Japanese import with a diesel and the steering wheel on the right side. This, aside from the ingrained nostalgia of youth in my 4Runner, is the favorite car I’ve ever owned. It was perfect. Perfect in all but timing in my life. But that story is for another time.

Somewhere in one of my journals about a year ago I wrote about all my cars, my memories of each one of them, the likes and dislikes. I’ll track that down and post it some day. But today’s writing is not about them all. It’s about one. And it’s not the damn perfect but ill timed 92 JDM HZJ77. That’s another day.

Today is about Tumbleweed.

While some cars have been fun but without freedom, and some have been freedom without fun, a few reach the ultimate Freedom Machine status, and the Tumbleweed checks all the boxes.

Tumbleweed is our 2011 Toyota Tundra Sr5. In the eyes of most passerby’s it is nothing special. Visually it’s luke warm milk. The tailgate has a dent. It’s usually dirty. Its headlights are faded. But this truck will go wherever I ask it to. And if it’s on the highway headed a thousand miles south, it will go there fast. And smooth as a sailboat. It’s the first car I’ve loved that also goes fast. This can be a problem for me. Slow keeps me out of tickets. I’ve owned cars that would go fast before, but I didn’t love them. My love has always been reserved for the steady slugs (The 2001 Landcruiser is relatively fast I guess, and I do love that car as much as the truck. But it’s slow-fast. It’ll get up to speed... but it won’t hold it on mountains, but you can comfortably drive 80 if the grade is right. The truck on the other hand will hold 80 all day and night no matter the mountain grade.)

When I first got Tumbleweed it was out of necessity. Our little kids had grown into full-size humans. It was weird. You don’t get ready for this as a parent. When they are little you, or at least I, assumed in some weird mental head space that this is how it was… Little Kids. But then, you wake up one day to find they are your size and have full mental capacity. It’s weird. They are young adults fitting in spaces once assumed by little children.

This is why we sold Sweet Lime, the perfect Land Cruiser. Sweet Lime lacked two thing we needed/desired about a Freedom Machine. We needed more power when loaded with 4, and we needed more space when loaded with 4. Plus a dog. Thus, we bought our Tundra. The second one we’d owned. The first one I owned less than 3 weeks. I didn’t really like it. I knew it was good but wasn’t feeling it.

But the second I sat in this Tundra in Belgrade, Montana I knew I liked this one. The seats were different. The suspension was different. It just felt right. I really liked the interior color. And I really liked the guy I bought it from too. I could tell he was feeling a ton of trepidation about selling it. He actually worded the text before I came over that he was still on the fence if he really wanted to get rid of it. I could tell he was trying to commit by having me come over. I brought cash. I took it for a few mile drive, down a gravel road, out on the highway, and back to his house and handed him the money. Something was good about this truck. A mix of the interior color, simplicity, soft ride, wide stance. It just felt like my truck whereas the first one I’d owned did not. I didn’t like its shocks. I didn’t like its color. It was technically a “better” truck, but I liked this second, less fancy version better. It immediately felt like mine.

There are things I don’t like about this truck. Let’s get past them first. The mileage sucks. Like bad. It loves to drink gas. It thinks gasoline is delicious. But that sacrifice offers in return an awesome engine that will power the truck very quietly and smoothly at any pace on any highway regardless of mountain grade. So it’s negative has a bonus.

Its other negative is also a positive. It’s big. It’s wide. It’s long. It’s like a land yacht. But again, that is the beauty. With some frequency we camp multiple days out of our vehicles, and at least a few times a year do large, long camp trips. Until owning this truck we were masters of Tetris. But it was a bit of a hinderance to have to take so much time planning, what goes where and how, and then unburying and reorganizing with the slightest stop, just to eat a snack. This truck makes packing easy. So much space. It’s luxurious. And the cab is big. As I end up in the back seat with the kids driving, even I as a 6 foot person loves sitting in the back. As much as the front really, if not even a little better. (Though I prefer driving. I love driving.)

And lastly, the gas pedal. I don’t know mechanically what is different between this and every other car I’ve owned in the past, but this gas pedal has a sloppy feel by comparison. Maybe it’s electronic or something? I’m sure there is a technical reason. I’ve adapted but I still don’t love the gas pedal. There is nothing wrong with it, I just prefer more precision.

But none of these are game killers for me. And the positives far outweigh the negatives. It is good on the highway and good on the dirt. Its 4wd is very capable in the snow with good tires. It has room for everyone and everything without needing to play tetris. And it is comfortable. Quite. Rides wonderfully. Doesn’t rattle. I’ve been in nearly new RAM trucks that sound 15 years older than mine. It also is completely anonymous to the view of others, something Sweet Lime knew nothing about. Everyone stared and waved at her. This truck can drive through the center of traffic and no one bats an eye or turns a head. It’s just an old Toyota truck.

But it’s so much more. It allows us to get out of town and anywhere we want. It allows us to carry our own food, shelter, and fun times. Bikes on the back, chairs ready to unfold. And it has a tailgate, basically a fold out sofa and table all in one.

I’ve never been one to say what the perfect Freedom Machine is for anyone because it’s different for everyone. I think we all have different desires and expectations for our cars. Some people the feel of the car is priority. They’d never want something that handled as sloppily as a truck. I get that. But that’s not me. Some people just want small. I get that too. But it’s never been my priority. But I understand. Everyone has their thing. It’s why it doesn’t matter what you like, as long as you know why. Do you want to sleep in the back? Do you want to be able to go over giant rocks (not a thing I’m into)? Do you want 50 mpg and don’t care about clearance? All good traits. Freedom Machines come in all shapes and sizes. (It’s the beauty of America.) You can pick your machine, new or old, reliable or Volkswagen, big or small, high or low, so many, many options. But the key is it’s yours and you use it for what you like to do. I know people that never camp and would never set out on a western trip for three weeks trying to live out of their car, let alone in the middle of the desert. For them their BMW sedan with room for a suitcase is just perfect. And admirable. It would only hinder me though.

But here in my ode to the Toyota Tundra I see perfection. Simplicity in about as good a form as you can currently find. It still has more electronics than I care for, more sensors that seem necessary, but they work. And it’s good. Really good, even in its imperfections (did I mention the BlueTooth nonsense it requires to connect music? It’s ridiculously awful. As I think it about it, it might be might least favorite thing about the truck.)

But we’ve put this truck to the test for a few years now. It’s been wonderful. This summer we are making a small upgrade to its topper and I’m ecstatic to push its use even more. More on that later with a review all its own.

Cheers to summer. It’s the longest day of the year (yesterday now). And cheers to the open road and the American dream. You only live once, might as well explore a bit and check this place out.

What is your favorite car you’ve ever owned. And if you feel so inclined, what about it made it the best for you? I’m genuine in saying I’d love to hear. I love cars.