Love old trucks. Driving the ‘83 Chevrolet Scottsdale on the weekends is a weekend pleasure.
Love old trucks so much, I bought a F-350 from a neighbor in the spring. My first diesel. A 2005 with 86K miles. Low mileage really for a diesel truck that can last 300K, if taken care of.
The rims are custom and the tires are all-terrain for off-roading. The turbo sounds like a jet engine.
A energizing thrill to drive and experience.
We can’t even feel the load when hauling our vintage camper at 75 mph.
This week is our first long trip in the 350. Going down to New Braunfels, Texas to visit our son.
Before we left I asked the neighbor I bought the truck from to change the tires back to its stock tires. (This was part of the deal.) The stock tires are for everyday and highway driving.
My neighbor said the tires were fine, when I asked.
I choose to believe him even though my intuition tugged at me when he answered.
I ignored the self tug and went along with his response.
The decision to not listen to my intuition came close to being a costly mistake.
My wife, Sarah, our dog, Zache (pronounced “sa-chay") and I left this Thursday morning.
Three hours into the drive, approaching Litchfield, Illinois on I-55, the front, left tire blew out. I was cruising at 70 miles when it happened, the truck swerving to the left into the median.
I held the steering wheel tight as we forcefully pounded through the median, tipping on the rim and blown tire.
The truck kept forcing to the left towards the northbound cars and trucks. The thought of flipping over and crashing head on was my concern during that surreal moment for us.
Holding hard and steady, pulling the steering wheel to the right was my instinct.
Fortunately, I was driving on the left lane of the two-lane highway, there were no guardrails, the median was wide and, for the most part grassy, and we didn’t wind up into the northbound cars and trucks.
We stopped about fifteen feet from the northbound shoulder.
As I write this, Sarah and Zache are asleep. The police report, tow truck and tire shop receipt are on the dresser.
The truck is across from the hotel with a brand new set of tires.
Tomorrow, off to another mechanic to check the suspension.
TBD if: we can continue our trip, fix what needs fixing, or rent a truck (we have quite a few things to take to our son) to continue southbound to the Lone Star state.
I’d pick up the repaired 350 on the way back north.
The lesson of not listening to and following my intuition in life is sobering and clear.
Always listen to tugs of instinct and intuition.
How about you, are you listening to and following your self tugs of instinct and intuition?
The stakes are subtlety or abruptly high when we don’t.