I was wondering what kind of vehicle to get. I want to be able to get out in the boonies or drive cross-country if I need to.
Back on the Eastern Shore of Maryland when weirdos and hippies could rent old houses on the water for fifty bucks a month, my old friend and fellow Texan David Ashworth drove a heavily-massaged first-generation Ford Bronco that sat up high on great big wheels and ran a mean V-8 with dual exhausts. David was tall with a big bald head and most of his Green Beret physique. He’d sit up ramrod straight with his sunglasses on and whip that thing around, and it would scoot, too. I went with him once on a trip across the Bay to Annapolis and learned it ran on beer. Well, he did. We did that time, actually. One of the fondest memories of my manly life so far is pissing in the parking lot that day. It was the middle of the afternoon and we had just pulled in beside some office building. The point is, we had to go, and David was just a few years out from being shelled by the North Vietnamese.
No, this isn’t off the track at all. Mobility, nerve, and great desire. Exploring with a camera and laptop. Scouting missions to unknown realms, getting into trouble. Whoa!
Damn, I need a garage.