There’s a new Toyota in my life. The original TOY was a good little car. It got me all over Ohio without complaint and even humored some trips out to the coast and up to the great lakes. I loved that toy up until the day it was sadly abducted. Abducted at the sprightly young age of 75k miles old… tragic really.

Years later I have once again found myself clutching the wheel of a much aged and wise Toyota: Larry. Larry is 279.5k miles old. Larry has seen more miles than I can imagine. I bet if he wanted that would get him somewhere to the earth’s upper-outer atmosphere before panicking and tumbling back into orbit. Larry is battle hardened by Fairbanks version of salting the road: scattering crushed mountains all over the street. There is apparently a surplus of mountains in this state, so much so that its easier and cheaper to pull pieces from them rather than dig up salt or have it shipped up from the coast. So Larry’s windshield is a little clouded from cracks and cataracts courtesy of the hard road miles. Larrys knees and CV joints are also growing old and tired a result of his travels through rough and unpaved territory; wash-boarded ground has not been kind to his underbelly.

Despite all of these challenges, and the nearly 150 degrees of temperature variation that he unwaveringly faces year in and year out, Larry is an engineering masterpiece (and so help me God, Larry if you break down on me tomorrow in some ironic fashion….). He’s an assemblage of systems that have far outshined his human counterparts in both strength and endurance. Larry. Is. A. champion.

But no great story comes without conflict.

Larry has a drinking problem.

After getting Larry a little gas and a new battery we were just about to pull out of the pump station when I felt a shudder course through his frame. At first a low guttural complaint that rose to a cacophonous banging with in feet. Screaming words of encouragement over his banging we tore into a U-Turn and raced back to the station grinding to a halt inches from the metal bollards protecting the glass entry way.

Under the hood I found no fluids.

Zip zilch nada.

Prior to my arrival Larry was enjoying retirement in a parking lot, a mere 4 months into his R&R I showed up. He must’ve been slowly hemorrhaging out during that time.

From left to right: Oil; Transmission fluid; power steering fluid; brake fluid; coolant; windshield fluid (not pictured: 87 unleaded gasoline)

At some point in Larrys history he dented his oil pan. This has produced an interesting situation: he is constantly drinking oil, and releasing it, he will never need an oil change because he is constantly flushing his system.

But despite this I love Larry.

His little manual 5-speed transmission, 4 cylinder, dented and aged self.

Oh the places we’ll go ;)