The following was an excerpt from my online diary:
When I was a boy, my best friend and tormentor, Alvis, was a wizard on the magic carpet with wheels, known to the modern man, as a skateboard. Alvis was one of those kids that always had the daredevil look in his eyes, that would make any parent grab their little children by the shoulders and turn them away in the opposite direction. As such, my parents would let me tag along with my brother everywhere, and Alvis was sure as hell somewhere causing a ruckus.
The thing about Alvis, though, is that he is quite persuasive, without even having to directly tell you a single thing. It's as if, he makes whatever he does look so god damn good, that you just want to do it, and hope some of the Cool rubs off on you.
I had hardly seen Alvis for a decade, as we both went to opposite sides of the copper state. One day, for my graduation party from college, Alvis arrived in a 1996 Toyota Land Cruiser, which to me looked like some funky, plastic, soccer mom car on steroids. I had no idea what these machines were, as my Mexican heritage usually looks to the aesthetics of the 80's Monte Carlo, or the dependability of a Chevrolet Silverado. I can hardly remember taking that thing around Pinal County with a handful of drunken friends, and even more vaguely, my friend Brady shooting a shotgun out of the back on this moving vehicle. But that even that was not enough to convince me of the Land Cruiser.
One day, early last year, I went out to see Alvis, as he was going camping with some friends in Joshua National Forest. Only this time, it was in a white 1984 FJ60. It was like looking at a dinosaur, with that Mighty 2F engine breathing as if a dragon was in slumber. The simple components made it a very charming vehicle, with minimal creature comforts, aside from the mediocre stereo, blasting Black Joe Lewis and the HoneyBears. I had a Triumph Bonneville, but never before this did I ever drive standard. Driving this mammoth of a truck, with its underpowered motor and lack of steering control, was all the persuasion I needed.
A few months later, I purchased Peaches, a blue 1983 FJ60 with smoke coming out of the tailpipe that would rival Cheech and Chong. Alvis was upfront about the painful damage the truck would do to my wallet, but I didn't care, I was chasing that cool ass feeling that Alvis demonstrated for me while doing a Frontside Kickflip over dirt gaps from my youth.
I bought the truck, and have since put so much money into this truck, that it nearly rivals my insurmountable student debt. But screw it, 60 don't care, and neither do I.
August 2017
March 2018
