THE LITTLE RED PICKUP THAT COULD

This Backyard-Bound 1990 Toyota Pickup as Been on an Adventure of a Lifetime

- ASHLEY GIORDANO

The first time we saw Little Red, our 1990 Toyota Pickup, the exhaust system grasped for life, and the fenders were transparent from corrosion. The rear bumper, defaced by copper-colored rust, sported a host of stickers affixed by a paddling enthusiast (“Canadian paddlers kick-ass,” read one). The cracked windshield welcomed the incessant rains of the Pacific Northwest inward, where the seats, carpet, and dashboard looked (and smelled) of mildew and mold.

My husband Richard popped open the hood and was intrigued by the 22RE—these engines were highly regarded but were becoming a rarity, even back in 2013. He turned the key in the ignition. The truck fired up immediately. The air reeked of unburned hydrocarbons, but the Pickup’s solid frame and body offered a glimmer of hope. It was apparent that this vehicle had good bones.

As for the ride, Richard tells me that as he toured his hometown of Powell River, British Columbia, the bench-seat springs imprinted into his backside, the speedometer cable squeaked, and the wheel bearing was so loose that it creaked over every bump in the road. Prior to our possession of the truck, a local plumbing company used it for hauling equipment, including 300-pound heat pumps, copper pipe, and scrap metal. By the time we laid eyes on it, the truck’s odometer read 321,251 kilometers and every single vital engine sensor had failed. This was the truck we decided to drive to South America.