Ready to upgrade from being a one car household, my favorite passenger and I started shopping for a cheap pickup that I could use around town and for projects. With a slim budget, I didn’t expect much.
I came across a dealer that had a wholesale to public lot, where they sold vehicles they had taken in on trade for reduced prices because they didn’t want to put effort/funds into cleaning up or repairing any flaws. A 1998 Chevrolet pickup caught my eye.
The 1988-1998 generation has a soft spot in my heart as my very first truck was a hand-me-down from my father. A 1993 Chevrolet in dark blue with a gold stripe down the side. He ordered it new and when he upgraded to a brand new 2005 Chevy, the dealer wasn’t going to give him much for the trade in.
I had a newly printed restricted drivers license at age 15 while all this was happening, meaning I could drive to and from school and work without supervision. It was a very exciting time, but I still didn’t have wheels to use this new privilege.
Then I learned I would be receiving the keys to the '93. It was such a pretty truck, my fathers pride and joy for many years, now mine. The tan interior still looked new and the 350 had the true “Heartbeat of America” exhaust note.
It was short lived, I only got to drive it a week before my parents found a dealer that gave them a good trade in value on a Ford Ranger. They told me the full size Chevy was too big for me to drive in the high school parking lot. I was sad to see it go.
So that brings me to current day. The 1998 sitting on the wholesale lot was dark blue, and while lacking the gold stripe, tan interior and 350 V8, it still takes me back in time each time I drive it. It serves as a great way to drive with my father, even if he is still driving that 2005 Chevy now.