My Little Red Truck

Everyone seems for sale these days. The societal decay in the West is evident in the rule by special interests in our capitals and the degradation of character as online adult sites are crowded with a never ending line of new “talent”.

Maybe this is a jaded view, but at least every business is for sale. If a client has money and direction then a business will do the work requested regardless of whether or not it’s in good taste or a good idea.

As they say “Money talks” but it doesn’t seem like much else does. Money and making money are the supreme act of human beings, it would seem, and who is anyone to judge?

We have a fantastic local mechanic in our small rural town that accompanied me on several trips to look at used vehicles. I was in the process of buying a pickup and he would be the mechanic to service it, so he offered to accompany me on several trips of more than 6 hours to find a suitable vehicle. This is a man who understands how it works. Not only is the customer always right, but you have to do what it takes to make that money.

We rolled up to the chacra (small rural hobby farm) and there she was. A 1980 Toyota pickup with an impeccable tan interior. Granted, I was sure the vehicle was a diesel after hearing it run on a video sent to me, but the gasoline engine had less than 100,000 miles on it. It was the base model having only two doors and a short bed, but I was confident it would serve our purpose as a project vehicle. 

During these previous drives with my mechanic he had explained that vehicles that don’t have four wheel drive from the factory can have it installed if the parts are sourced. Here we had the perfect vehicle for our project. An adorable little red truck that would soon be sitting taller with the addition of four wheel drive and an engine swap to diesel. The price was reasonable and the only issue would be the necessary wait in sourcing parts. Automobiles and auto parts are subject to significant tariffs here in Uruguay. Simply double the price you see in the United States and that is the market price here in Uruguay. Truly.

No matter. We were going to be making a custom truck with more character and charm than anything that could be bought new and I would proudly drive it around the Interior much more as a show truck than the work truck it was born.

While Southern Shelter had found the mechanic for me originally and I was confident that preexisting social relationships insured I wouldn’t be taken advantage of, in our rides together I felt we forged a bit of a relationship ourselves. I thought he liked me maybe a little bit. I’m often quick to communicate that Uruguay is the best nation on earth and explore the reasons why (because it is) and because Uruguayans are not aware of how fantastic their nation is relative to the contemporary West. After all, no one knows what they look like until they see themselves in a mirror. I thought that maybe he found this endearing as many do (people like it when you like what they like or something their concept of self is attached to) and he would welcome the opportunity I was presenting with this truck project. Money is money and someone in business always wants more money, right?

I was wrong. See, the vehicle had a particular charm in its current state. It spoke of a time gone by where men in the Interior would putt about attending to the herds of cattle and enjoying the rhythm of life. You see them today alongside the highway, watching cars go by while friends share several cups of mate together. 

My mechanic told me that this truck belonged in that era and was meant to be enjoyed as it was. It was meant to be driven as it was. Humbly bumping down country roads with a cattleman behind the wheel stopping for mate breaks or not. He wasn’t persuaded by my descriptions of how impressive the truck would turn out though he was admittedly doing all the work. This would be an extensive project. Surely he would want to make the money and especially given the long time necessary to procure the necessary parts and assemble what would be a custom vehicle. He was smart enough to know that other work could follow. That often when someone attracts attention, whether it be a new hairstyle or lifted truck, others will show up and want the similar outcome.

He communicated his position twice and it was clear. The truck was meant to be as it was. Uruguayan. It was not meant to become a custom diesel show truck even if it would be to communicate a deep pride in the area we both call home. 

While his decision did not make the most business sense, I could not have come away from the interaction more satisfied. Here was a man unwilling to compromise his vision for money. He saw something that mattered to him and he was not for sale. 

This is a land where some things are more important than money. Granted, I did not get what I wanted, but I got something much greater in return. I gained the knowledge that there exists a man who doesn’t bend to money without thought. Sure, we all think ourselves similar and beyond the gritty reality that “money talks” but how many people toil their lives away in jobs they despise? “That’s life” you might say. “That’s life in the contemporary West” I might respond. 

Marco.