1990 Toyota 4Runner
I bought a 21 year old 4runner without a service history and a tempered odometer. What could possibly go wrong?
The first car most Dutch kids buy is something small, practical and economical. My first car wasn't any of those. Nor was it reliable, as it turned out.
As an exchange student in Arizona, I considered it necessary to buy myself the baddest car I could find. So, I went to a guy in a neighbourhood we were advised not to go to, and test drove a very old, bright blue Cadillac El Dorado. However, after I almost crashed the 6 metres of vulgarity into another car because the brakes didn't function at all, I put my trust in his Toyota 4Runner. The engine was recently completely revised. By him. The odometer report showed that the already astronomical milage was not built up in a logical way and it had yet to pass its emissions test, but my naive eightteen year old me decided to go for it anyway. Mainly because milage on such car doesn't matter and as it only had a three litre V6 enigne I thought even the green party would be happy with it - so passing the emissions test wouldn't be a problem.
That however, wasn't entirely true. It emitted so much carbon monoxide it would cause immediate death to anyone tailgating. It failed the emissions check twice, until the garage owner decided to install an entirely new catalytic converter. With his craftmanship he left a hole in the exhaust the size of a tennis ball, drastically improving the V6's rumble.
The minor flaws, like the lack of paint on the bonnet, vibrant side mirror and high speed buffet while exceeding 65 mph, only gave it character. Unfortunately our friendship wasn't very mutual, nor was it very long lasting. Only a few months later it decided to cough its own lungs out, ripping some of the engine's vital parts with it. After I sold her to the highest bidder, I went back to Holland.
It was, of course, a dreadful car. It wasn't fast, it wasn't economical or comfortable, I didn't need the space at all and it was clearly on its last legs, where my numerous desert expeditions might have expedited its imminent death. If I would have known better, I should have never bought it. But should I? It was by far the most exciting car I've owned, maybe even driven. The roaring sound of the engine was head-turning and fantastic, its terrain capabilities endless. And, regardless of what it was or wasn't capable of, I felt the king of the road in it. It bought me the ultimate freedom money could buy. On the road, and beyond.
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