A 1997 Dodge Pickup

I drive a 1997 Dodge Dakota pickup truck. The vehicle is 15 years old.
Don't get me wrong. I love this truck. It suits me. I am comfortable sitting in the driver's seat. It has an eight foot bed that I absolutely don't need but I like having because it is not normal. I also like that it is a Dakota. Makes me think about John Lennon.
Am I disappointed that after all these years of sweat and blood, the only vehicle I can afford is fifteen years old? You betcha. Tortures my soul. But that's not the truck's fault.
It is strange karma that I love this truck, because I loved the car that preceded it. A 2001 Pontiac Sunfire. Dark Blue. Two door.
A modest car, but I learned to love it because the truth was beginning to settle with me that poverty would be my future. No Mercedes for me. It was the first car we were able to finance after the collapse of our business and our lives. Prior to that I was driving an old Toyota Tercel, ugly, scarred car that leaked exhaust into the interior, manual transmission, that I paid $400 for from a friend of Carol's. So the Sunfire meant something to me.
When I climbed into the driver's seat I felt comfortable there. And the car had a little bit of style.
True story - When I bought the car, when I saw it for the first time, I said to the salesman "Not a bad car for the price. It has a little style." He said "That depends on your definition of style."
I totalled that car. I recommend that everybody total one car in their lifetime for the experience. As long as you don't get hurt. It is a wild ride.
I was driving home on an icy early morning after tending bar at a function. Car began to fishtail going downhill, I couldn't get it back, I went off the road, rolled over and ended up lying on the driver's side. Had to climb up out of the passenger side window. Walked home being only five minutes from my house.
I was determined to get a nice vehicle. Felt I deserved it. Couldn't afford it.
Ended up with the Dakota. Power nothing. Cassette player. No frills whatsoever.
Except the driver's side, side view mirror. This is electronically powered. Is that not bizarre? Crank windows, no heated seats, no CD player, locks that you have to actually manipulate with your fingers, no remote electronic starter, BUT I can adjust my side view mirror with the touch of a finger.
It is my only luxury.
I have learned to live with it. Once again I have settled. I do actually love the truck. It treats me well. Makes me feel like a true New Hampshirite. When I wear a flannel shirt while driving it, I pretend I am a manly, rural, truck driving man.
Then I go home and write a poem about it.