Outdoors | Adapting to a new fishing truck after a ‘battle scarred’ favorite
The date was December 2008. The odometer on my 2000 Gen-1 Tundra read 123,00 miles. “Whatcha running into with that truck, old man?” GM said when he greeted me.
The truck showcased a two-foot crease in the tailgate caused when I jack-knifed my boat trailer during a moment of inattention at the launch. The left headlamp rim had been puckered from a encounter with a telephone pole. Both side panels were scratched from ill-managed squeezes by immovable tree branches.
“It’s a working man’s vehicle,” I replied in a huff.
Sensing he hit a sore spot, GM said, “Just teasing.”
Following my retirement from the work place, I told friends, “I’m going to fish a different locale every week.” My plan was to drive the beloved Tundra to favorite streams and rivers until the wheels fell off.
Things moved along according to plan until I found myself in a hospital bed with Dilaudid coursing through my veins and decided life was too short to not own a new pickup. By then, the number of battle scars on the punch-drunk Tundra had grown to include a dent in the front bumper (ran over a stump) and a busted right-side mirror (interacted with a light pole).
Maneuvering the larger 2011 Gen-2 Tundra in crowded parking lots took some getting used to, but it had “V-8 power,” as my granddaughter referred to the feeling of acceleration when I stomped on the gas. Over the next 13 years and 193,000 miles the second Tundra picked up its own set of battle scars. The scuffed-up truck suited me well until I reflected on a fishing buddy who resided in a memory care facility.
“Life is too short to be without a shiny new truck,” I told myself on a drive home from a poignant visit. Unable to pull the trigger on a larger, Gen-3 Tundra, I put money down on a new Tacoma.
My 2024 Tacoma is a twin-turbo, 6-speed, four-banger that gets up to 24 miles per gallon, hence saving money on fishing trips. The new truck came with multiple backup cameras, blind spot monitoring, lane control, hands-free steering, a charging port for an I-phone, a Bose Sound System, and a 14” navigation screen.
Anti-collision sensors lock the wheels if I venture too close to an object. A digital gauge shows how many miles are left in the tank before you need to gas up (as if a person is incapable of figuring that out on their own).
The Gen-2 Tundra had a storage box between the driver and passenger seat large enough to hold multiple candy bars, a dozen CDs, pens and notepad, a multi-tool, and associated paraphernalia.
The Tacoma storage box holds two candy bars, a pocket knife, a short pencil, and a book of matches. Its cup holders don’t secure a mug larger than 4-inch diameter, which means a 28-ounce bottle of “Fruit Punch” Powerade must be clutched between my legs.
I miss the power of a 5.7 L V-8 that allowed me to pass slow-moving mommy wagons and semi-trucks with my boat and trailer in tow. It’s demeaning when full-size Ford, Chevrolet, and Ram trucks look down on me at stoplights. Although not a tall person, I don’t appreciate having to bend over when I enter the truck to keep from scraping my hat on the door frame.
While backseat space is limited, three can be a crowd when fishing. Regarding a smaller bed, my pontoon boat balances on top of the wheel wells and I have to break my rods down to prevent them from hanging over a rail. On a positive note, a full-size sleeping bag rolls out when the tailgate is down.
Perhaps the most aggravating issue is the new truck lacks a CD player. Being the proud owner of over 150 CDs I had no inclination to spend the rest of my natural life listening to AI-created playlists from Amazon Music, Spotify, or Pandora. Thanks to Traffic Jams LLC, I found an accessory CD player compatible with the truck’s computer software. In my world, music and driving to fish go together.
Slowly but surely, I’m getting used to some of the electronic gadgetry that individuals smarter than me deem important to have in a modern vehicle. But don’t ask me to study the 6-inch owner’s manual to figure out the rest. I’m set for now, although an accessory brush guard comes to mind following an incident with a donkey who left an expensive bite mark on the Tacoma’s “Olefin Polymer” front bumper.
That same bad donkey would have surely broken his teeth on my former Tundra’s bumper. When it comes to fishing trucks, I guess you can’t have it all.