Posts Tagged ‘Ford F150’
It’s Gone
Now you see it, now you don’t. On Friday, Cyndie was able to trade in our beat and battered red pickup truck while making a deal on a used 2019 Honda CRV. That truck served us perfectly well during our years of hauling hay, but it was falling apart from rust –literally, hunks of rusted metal were sloughing off and clanking to the ground while the truck was parked in front of the shop– and we don’t need to haul hay anymore.
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We were a little surprised the auto dealership was willing to accept the truck. It had been through a lot, including the time Cyndie slid off the road and it rolled over onto the roof. With a bare minimum of insurance coverage on the pickup, we elected to have equally bare minimum repairs done to get it functional again.
It looked like they pounded out the roof with a ball peen hammer to get a new windshield installed and then painted it with dull red spray paint that quickly faded. There was a resulting air leak that whistled as we drove.
The truck also had a phantom drain on the battery that we were never able to solve. The final solution in dealing with that was to install a disconnect on the battery that required we open the hood every time we needed to drive anywhere.
It was a farm truck, and it served well enough for that. I never felt bad when driving through tree branches that might scratch the paint. There was frequent evidence that mice and squirrels sought shelter beneath the hood. There were probably as many acorns stored in it as there were bales of hay hauled over the years.
I’m happy that we had it around when needed, and I’m even happier to have it now gone from our driveway without having had to try to convince someone it was worth buying.
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Adding Hay
Our original local hay source is back. Tom was the first reliable local provider of small bales from whom we purchased hay 3 years ago. At that time, we over-bought and ended up not needing more bales from him the following year. Then there was a wet year where he didn’t have any second-cut grass bales that met our needs.
We ended up shopping around.
This year conditions have been good for hay and he called to see if we were interested. Last night we hustled over to see what he was offering and ended up bringing home a truck-full. His bales include a larger percentage of stemmy content than our most recent supplier who Cyndie found through a local ad, but Tom is located half the distance away.
If our horses don’t reject Tom’s hay outright, we’ll probably put in a reservation for another 160 bales or so from him. We expect to be bringing in hay from three different sources this year, and would like to avoid coming up short before the winter season is over.
I think determining the correct number of bales needed for a year is more of an art than a science. We haven’t quite mastered the craft yet, but each year we seem to be gaining skills. It would help if the horses wouldn’t be so picky about eating what is served.
It doesn’t do a lot of good to have the hay shed filled with bales that the horses won’t eat. I’m told they’ll be less picky if they get hungry enough, but we haven’t seen that happen here yet.
We are offering the horses some test servings of the hay varieties we are putting up this summer to bolster our confidence on the new bales before committing with money and stacking muscle on further truckloads.
It’s a manner of practicing our artistic skills.
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Hot Tamale
She finally did it. Cyndie made a decision on a truck for the ranch. We went back and forth over whether to get a new one that she would drive all the time, or a used one that would just be available when we need it for hauling or towing. She picked a used one.
We chose to keep our business local and worked with the Ford dealer in Ellsworth. After test driving a variety of trucks there, a few weeks ago, we paused the process to reconsider our plan. The folks at this dealership were great, and very patient with our creative (chaotic) method of shopping and deciding.
The second time we showed up, Cyndie asked to see the “most affordable” trucks they had, that matched our criteria. They said we could walk around to the back and look. These trucks were stored out of sight.
They weren’t bad looking, really. One had a scar on the carpet that appeared as if something toxic had been spilled. Another had the driver’s side mirror held on with layers of tape.
Cyndie bee-lined to the black one, I think because she still misses the old black Mustang she no longer owns. Next, she drove the silver one. Lastly, the red one, pretty much an exact color match to her current convertible.
The red truck drove better than all the rest, and was, by far, the best price.
When we got it home, we didn’t even drive up to the house, but put it right to work, parking on the hill of the pasture to pick up old fence posts to be moved.
Cyndie is thinking about calling it, “the Hot Tamale.”
Relative Something 