Selling our 1990 Isuzu Trooper wasn’t an easy thing to do and not for the reasons you might suspect.
I almost cried yesterday, almost. How silly it was to be emotional over the sale of a car, but the Trooper wasn’t just any car. For six years it played its part in our family as a ride giver, a workhorse, a mountain climber, a stump remover, a photographer ‘s ladder and a complete doggie entertainment system. Spending everyday of six years with us performing some kind of task that no one or no other thing in the family could do. It even held its wipers high and proud the day we brought home its soon to be replacement, the Rav4.
I remember telling the soon to be new owners over the phone “She’s not a cosmetic princess but she’s a good car”. Had I said she? I had fielded about 100 calls and e-mails after posting the pic’s and ad on Craigslist but hadn’t called it a she before. Maybe that was the defining factor in the final sale, I don’t know. As I was replying to the other parties I found my self more and more in awe of how much I had counted on the Trooper. The other potential buyers seemed to have a few questions but as soon as they heard the words “a few rust spots” they wouldn’t send a reply. I’m glad they didn’t make an offer, they wouldn’t have cared for her properly.
A Little History
The Trooper made me feel like a bad ass when we went into the mountains behind our house. People along the road said it’s really rough road beyond this point and I would pat the dash and say that’s ok the Trooper can do it and she would. No gravel, just muddy road and she would bear down, ride the high spots just an inch above the muck and get us exactly where we needed to be.
There were tough times too. We had helped to dig the grave of Don Antonio, the man who used to live on our farm. The plan was that I was going to take the family to the cemetery and after the service we would carry all the grave diggers and shovels back down the hill. We got to the top of the hill, buried the dead man and the Trooper decided to die on us too. Another time, I was driving down the steep hill on our farm and when I went to hit the brakes nothing happened. I just simply kept going all the way through the stream and I almost hit the gate until I put it in neutral and the incline rolled me just enough to the only flat place on the farm, our stream bed. The only other time I was disappointed was when the rear differential gave out and I was stranded in the hot sun until a mechanic removed the rear axle. We ended up trying to use that torn up differential as the counterweight to our trap door but it was just to heavy.
When I met the people who now own the Trooper I knew that it was a good match. He had owned over a hundred cars in his lifetime and she wanted to make sure the radio worked. His name is Craig just like the owner of the list, that had to count for something.
The engine purred like a kitten, only the body had taken a beating in all it’s time on this planet. He recognized the hum of a good motor and a deal was made. We wished them well on their long trip back to Golfito and we headed to a near by bar to toast the Trooper and all it had given us.
Here are a few pic’s of the Trooper helping us to build our new house. We couldn’t have done it without you, you lovely beast of a truck! We’ll miss you!