Sorry for the delay in getting this posted. To be honest, I'm out town right now and haven't had the time to prepare anything for this yet. Anyway, to get this going I guess I'll start with a little history. Here is an excerpt from a journal entry I wrote a few months ago. I edited it slightly for the sake of public interest but please excuse any lack of context. This is all I can offer tight now, but I'll post more about the evolution of my cruiser in the coming week(s)...
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And here are some of the photos I was referring to...
that's right, I'm the stud with the training wheels.
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"Over Christmas, my sister and I took on the project of sorting through chests full of old family photographs. The goal was to put together some family albums, but I realized I was looking for something deeper, answers perhaps, or meaning. Those faded snapshots of my childhood were memories, a record of my past, of me. If I could find the answer to who I am and how I got here, it would be buried in those piles of dusty envelopes.
I found part of the answer in a crumbled shoebox with “1980’s” scribbled on the side. In it were photos of my early years, those just outside my range of memory. I flipped through the photos, one after another sparing only a moment’s glance until suddenly, a flash of red.
It was a photo of my parent’s old Land Cruiser, a Freeborn Red FJ60. My parents remembered the purchase quite clearly explaining that they bought on a whim while driving through Pennsylvania on their way home to Vermont. The dealership had two that were identical, both bright red and parked next to each other on the lot. They stopped to take a look and before long they were on the phone with the bank to have the money wired down the following morning. My sister and I were born not long after.
I admit that I don’t recall my ride home from the hospital or those early road trips to visit family in Chicago, but I do have several fond memories of bouncing around in “Big Red” throughout my childhood. I remember the distinct smell of vinyl with a subtle undertone of gas and oil, and running my hand down the striped tan and brown upholstery as I climbed into the back. I remember shifting gears from the passenger seat for my mother – I used both hands and knew exactly where to find the gears as she shouted them out – and steering down the gravel roads on her lap when I was bit older. I remember that it was indestructible, that it could go anywhere, and that it made me feel safe.
My mother drove that Land Cruiser for over ten years, but Vermont roads are tough on a vehicle and she eventually decided it was time for fuel injection and something more suitable for the highway. Sometime around 1995 they parked it in the front yard with a sign in the front window. It sat there for a couple weeks and then one day, when I came home from school, it was gone. I was about ten years old.
To say that an old Toyota somehow changed the course of my life might be taking it a bit far, but it certainly made an impact. I attribute a lot to that old Land Cruiser, such as my lifelong fascination with cars and engines for example, which ultimately led me to a degree in mechanical engineering, and it’s definitely the reason that I drive one today. For a long time I wished my parents hadn’t sold Big Red and that it could have been my first car, but I wonder now how that might have changed things. Would I have the same affinity for old Land Cruisers today? Or would I have gotten tired of it and have moved on to something else? But those questions can’t be answered by digging through a chest full of old photographs."
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And here are some of the photos I was referring to...





that's right, I'm the stud with the training wheels.


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