In 1996, when we first got here, I bought the new Ford Ranger. At the time, as I wasn't a permanent resident, it was relatively easy to make the purchase in Washington State. Well, a great deal of that ease was the fact that friends there were always kind enough to let me use their address. The fairly stripped pickup was advertised in a Sunday newspaper for something that turned out less then $12,000 when the whole tab was added up. I thought that'd be a relatively safe way to get rid of some cash as long as I could make it last a dozen years. A grand a year sounded reasonable. That was the plan.
Now that the truck is getting close to the self-imposed limit, I've decided to continue to hang on to it. I take good care of it but don't drive much at all. In fact, it'll soon need an oil change at 72,000 miles. I do so every 3,000. Other than a battery, and a bit of trouble with the horn, it's been entirely dependable. I want it to stay that way. Four new tires seemed like a good way to add peace of mind when heading out of the neighbourhood.
Leave it to me to be sentimental about old tires though. I fondly thought about how they had rolled us past or through most every landmark in Canada, out to the Cape Spear, the farthest point east possible on this continent. I couldn't but help remember the time we drove down to San Francisco to see Wally when he was ill. I remembered how we'd seen glaciers by running them on trips up to Northern BC. Numerous trips over to the Okanagan or down into Washington took place over those tires. The fact modern tires can last so long amazes me.
It was time to retire them; they'd been good to us.
