Zippy

 

Zippy and Sam on a High Line adventure, August 2021

One of my favorite photos was taken on the edge of the Missouri Breaks. It is a gloomy August day in 2020 and Sam is standing on the rim with the dogs, looking stoically out at the lazy river below. On one side of the picture is a lonely ranch, perched dramatically above the badlands. On the other is an unobtrusive purple car, rakishly parked on the side of the gravel, windows down, Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark playing on the radio. 

I flash to numerous other moments, as Sam and I exit the Hell Creek Bar, or the Helmville Rodeo, or the Jackson Hot Springs and walk through the parking lot. We walk past a line of shiny Silverados and brooding Rams, lifted Jeeps and knobby-tired Tundras with all the necessary accessories for surviving the zombie apocalypse and finally come to our little 2008 Honda Fit. I take so much pride in driving such an insignificant little car in a country where people are judged by what they drive. 

I love trucks. My first vehicle was a 1999 maroon F-250 long bed and I have driven a truck ever since. I spent every summer in college turning my Tacoma into the perfect off-grid camping vehicle. We currently have a workhorse F-250 that we use to its full capacity for towing trailers and hauling gravel. But I have never had a more useful car than our little purple bullet. 

Zippy has a manual transmission geared low, so every acceleration feels like a jet taking off, hence, the nickname Zippy. It is a beast in the snow, fourteen inch studded snow tires climbing unplowed Stemple Pass without a single slip. It fills up for thirty bucks from empty, even at $4/gallon gas. A single tank can get you to Tri-Cities, Washington from Drummond. The folding seats allow us to fit two people, two dogs, two dog beds, a cooler, guitar, Coleman stove, all necessary camping gear, large food bag, plastic bin of emergency supplies, two shovels, extra boots, hatchet and chainsaw comfortably within its Blackberry pearl shell. Yes, the official color is Blackberry Pearl on the title, but we just call it purple. 

We sit so low to the ground that when you pass a lifted truck in Sand Basin, you have to stick your head out the window and crane upward to chat with the passing driver. We have taken Zippy all over these United States and everywhere we go, people are driving gigantic trucks. That in itself is nothing new; trucks have been the staple of every working community for generations especially in Montana. But now it seems like every financial planner, real estate agent, or grocery store manager is driving a seventy thousand dollar, off-road bruiser with a lift kit, winch and Flippac camper top. Having done my fair share of off-roading, it is pretty obvious which rigs are utilized for backcountry access and which are simply eye candy.

I know it is somewhat petty, but I just love the feeling of rolling into a remote campground in the Yaak and pulling up beside some gigantic Tacoma worth more than my house; the prize possession of some Seattle stockbroker off on a backroad expedition of wild Montana. Nothing breaks the reverie that you are an epic explorer of the wilderness faster than a little purple commuter car covered in mud and Alan Jackson bumper stickers appearing out of the twilight.

Obviously, our car has its limits. Zippy isn’t going to be rock crawling in Moab any time soon. It isn’t entering the Drummond mud bog competition. Smoking a deer at sixty five is probably going to total this little car. But on normal days, I like being reminded that I can do more with less. I can be frugal and be an intrepid explorer of Montana’s secret places. I can love a place without putting forth such a cliche image of a place. I will still be using my F-250 to haul gravel and horse trailers, but this summer when we cruise out to Ekalaka to look for dinosaurs, we will be taking Zippy.