FAMILY SURF LOG 07 - Old Tacomas, Island Beaters, and Surf Rebels

Nothing says Hawaiʻi quite like a Tacoma or a 4Runner. Heck, as a rabble-rousing young buck, you’ll for sure notice that, like, half the police vehicles on the islands are 4Runners, and you may get a non-consensual ride in the red-and-blue-light Toyota taxi if you don’t behave. The Toyota, and especially the pickup, has become part of the local scenery, right alongside the mountains, the ocean, and the traffic crawling down Farrington Highway.

I’m a Tacoma man myself. I’ve had my cool little 2013 Toyota Tacoma, with no bells and whistles, for years. It’s been with me through Hawaiʻi, California, and Florida. I’ve even driven across the whole United States in it. It’s got a CD player and manual crank windows, making it feel like one of the last of its kind. There’s a small scratch on the passenger-side door that I earned years ago, we’ll leave the “why” off the record. It’s even got a sticker (my only sticker on the truck) that matches my first tattoo, which I got in Kaneohe back in 2015. I’ve slept across the front (and only seat) more times than I can count. I’ve listened to my Tool, Pink Floyd, and Willie Nelson CDs more than I can remember. I’ve sat in the back at a drive-in theater on a blanket with my wife, and I’ve even made a bed in the back and camped under the stars.

*Editors note from the wife: I would describe those “stars” more like pine trees with pine cones hailing down like little missiles, softened only by a constant drizzle of rain. 

That little truck has been more than transportation. It’s been a bedroom, a road-trip companion, a mobile surf locker, and a dependable way to get wherever I needed to go.

Just to explain why the Tacoma is special to me and so many others, it’s worth mentioning Toyota’s history in the islands. Toyota pickups were part of island life long before the Tacoma was released in 1995. Over the years, the Tacoma (and Toyota in general) became practically synonymous with Hawaiʻi. You see the work trucks, the island beaters, and customs with lift kits, chrome wheels, local stickers, Hawaiian flags, and slogans that reflect the owners and their connection to the islands.

I remember seeing those trucks all over! They were part of the scenery, parked around the neighborhood, cruising Farrington Highway, or lined up at the beach. Some were built for work, some for the outdoors, and some looked like their owners had spent every spare dollar making them just right. There was a whole culture around those trucks, and I always enjoyed seeing the variety.

My own Tacoma has never been like those customized rigs. Mine has crank windows, a CD player, a few scratches, and no bells and whistles. It’s just a little truck that has earned its place in my life by showing up and doing its job.

Doing my job is where the rest of today's story takes off. Somebody broke my windshield!! Grrrr. After a week of being sick and dealing with dismal surf, I worked overtime last Saturday. On the way home, the driver ahead of me threw an object out of their window. For a moment, it seemed to hang in the air. As I approached at around 65 mph, I caught up with it, and it smashed half my windshield to pieces.

That one careless decision cost me about $350 and left me driving my wife’s car for the week. All that overtime I’d been working to fund my surfboard projects and research and development for a better surf wax went down the tubes because somebody decided to throw a hard object out of a moving car.

I love that truck. I’ve driven it to almost every meaningful surf session I’ve had over the past decade, and man, did I miss it while it was out of commission.

The timing was especially funny because I’d already hit a snag with my surfboard-shaping plans. I’d rented a garage to shape and glass boards, only to have property management put a stop to the glassing. Now I have a bunch of shaped and partially finished boards waiting for a glasser I haven’t found yet. I’ve been frustrated about paying for a garage I can only halfway use.

But the garage did give me somewhere to park the Tacoma while I waited a week for the windshield replacement, keeping the rain off the dashboard. I guess it wasn’t entirely useless after all.

Now my windshield is fixed, and all is right in the world. I’m going surfing this evening. I might not write about that, but I surfed yesterday, and it was good. A little windy, and the tide was too deep, but I found some waves. I saw some cool fish and watched my baby run around the beach with her mom. That’s the kind of stuff that makes the other frustrations seem a little smaller.

My wife and I have had a lot of good times in that truck. It’s carried me through Hawaiʻi, California, and Florida, across the country, and through more chapters of life than I could have imagined when I first got it.

It might not be the biggest, newest, or shiniest truck on the road, but it’s mine, and I wouldn’t trade its history for a new set of wheels.

Here’s to old Tacomas, island beaters, and surf rebels.