Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

For years I've been thinking about replacing my 1988 Ford Ranger, but I was under the mistaken impression that the best way to do it was to buy a used vehicle with one lump sum. This limited me to whatever I could manage to save, which never seemed enough for a reasonably good vehicle.

This year, my brother and his wife bought a new car, financing it, and they convinced me it wasn't so difficult to do.

So, with The Gryphon's help, I researched the type of vehicle I'd like to own, figured out how much I could spend, and got shopping. It turned out not to be that painful, because like anything else, once you know what you're looking for, it's not difficult to recognize it when you find it.

We visited a couple dealerships, looking for a hatchback within my price range, with several possible models written down on a sheet of paper. By about the fourth dealership we'd found it, a silver 2002 Ford Focus in excellent condition. I was in love.

Since I always name my vehicles, I've been tossing around ideas. The day after I bought it, I saw the sun shining on it brightly and thought, "Sunbeam." But that was wrong for the color of the car.

A day after that, I considered "Cloud 9," but that didn't quite work, either. "Moonbeam" was a little too flaky for me. Then, as I was playing around with the idea of "Mooncloud," a song came on the radio: "Moondance." Perfect.

Moondance and I are very happy together so far. Red Arrow is going to undergo some detailing and minor repairs before we try to sell it back in Central Pennsylvania. (I figure I'm more likely to be able to sell a pickup near farm country.)

But this was not an easy decision. Just to give you an idea of what I mean, here's an essay I wrote about the subject, a few months ago.

Thankfully, it was dark when my sister visited. She couldn't see the muffler in my truck bed. The muffler had dropped off that day with a tired clank, along with several feet of rusted pipe.

I didn't want my sister to berate me, once more, for not selling my 1988 Ford Ranger sooner. She doesn't know Red Arrow like I do.

When I bought her, Red Arrow competed with memories of my 1973 Chevrolet Caprice Classic, a.k.a. The Enterprise, The Dinosaur or The Yacht. The Enterprise had pulled the family camper and carried me to many teenage adventures.

Within a week of owning Red Arrow, I'd already dented her, backing into a van. Since then she's seen mishaps ranging from fender benders to a monstrous hit-and-run requiring the replacement of the entire driver's side.

To be sure, Red Arrow is no longer yar. Rust is crumbling her starboard rear. The previous owner's cheap paint job has been flaking off the hood. To turn on the radio, you have to hit it on the volume knob with an old flashlight.

But I forgive her quirks because of all we've been through.

Red Arrow carried me and my husband along the Mississippi from Missouri to Canada, where a bear broke her window and stole our food. I always meant to search the cab for bear hairs. I'd intended to pluck a few, as souvenirs, wear them in a bag around my neck. But, by rights, those wayward hairs are where they belong. It was, after all, Red Arrow's encounter.

Red Arrow was there when my marriage broke up. I drove her to music festivals with my sister, slept in the back and, sometimes, listened to rain pattering on the cap.

Red Arrow carried me from Pennsylvania to Memphis and the gates of Graceland.

In Red Arrow, I whizzed around town as a pizza delivery driver.

Red Arrow carried me to county commissioners' meetings, school board meetings, fires and accidents when I was a reporter.

And Red Arrow helped me move twice, never shrugging off the heavy loads: the mattresses, the dressers, the boxes of my relics.

Since I bought her, the odometer has clicked over twice.

My sister tells me trucks have no feelings. But once, when I talked about buying a new truck radio, the speaker cut out, refusing to work until I said, "Or maybe not."

Once I get the muffler fixed, I suppose I may be looking around for a new vehicle. But just as importantly, I'll find Red Arrow a new home, with someone to make new memories with my old friend. Hopefully, someone who lives far from bears.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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