When I got back from the arboretum this afternoon, I noticed my bike ride was becoming increasingly wobbly. I thought I had a broken spoke, but it turned out the worn-out tire had completely failed with a blown-out sidewall and a ripped bead. After showering, I decided to swing by Steiner’s to get a new one. They had the exact model—pricey at $84, but whatever, inflation. I make good money, I guess.

What I didn’t notice was that they sold me a tubeless tire, while I run old-fashioned tubes on my mountain bike. That explains the high cost; tube tires are much cheaper, even if they have inferior performance. When I discovered this in the evening, I was pissed because it meant no riding the bike to work tomorrow. Traffic was so bad in Glenmont this afternoon, and Steiner’s was a zoo, too. Maybe I’m just a bit freaked out about driving an F-350 through traffic. Even worse, I’m going to have to drive to work so I can swing by Steiner’s afterward. I can’t help but think of the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the cops with their penises sticking out their windows, and the drivers all looking to crash into a brand-new Super Duty. There are few things I despise more than having to drive to work, and I’ll have to burn all that gas in the truck to make the trip. It’s not that much money, really—I just bought the truck with cash.

I keep looking at the MPG calculator, which has gone down since I drove more in traffic on Central Avenue and in Glenmont. Rural driving with all the hills isn’t quite as easy on gas as I expected, though highway driving is remarkably efficient. It’s stupid; the Super Duty is not a commuting car, and I don’t plan to make a habit of driving it to work every day.

The truck is paid for, except for the $4,900 remaining on the cap after my $500 deposit, plus maybe a bit for miscellaneous parts to move the electrical components over. That’s just one more bank check in May when I take delivery, as Ruth’s charges 3.5% on credit cards and doesn’t take personal checks. And maybe a bed liner and undercoating in the autumn. Still, this has felt like such a costly project. Maybe I should have kept “Big Red” on the road, but he needed to be retired since I still want to travel. I could have gotten a smaller truck, but I didn’t want a lift kit and the alternators were too small on the other models. I’m just freaking out a bit over the cost of it all, even though I knew what I was getting into.

The truth is, I really like the way the Super Duty drives now that I’ve got things adjusted, especially on rural highways. It feels at home with the big tow mirrors that make it easy to spot the lines on the road and find my position. With those mirrors, I think it’s easier to drive in traffic than the lifted Silverado. The views are great and it has a solid ride—which, as the frame got floppy on the Silverado, wasn’t the case anymore. I like the true big-truck feel and the roar of that 6.8L “Minizilla” V8. It really is a fun toy, something that reminds me of the years I’ve spent working hard and saving for a little fun. I don’t buy many toys, and my idea of a good vacation is camping at a dispersed site for free. Once the cap arrives, it will be great. I just have to keep my eyes off the MPG gauge.

Honestly, the fewer miles I drive the Super Duty, the longer it will last. It’s a pretty amazing truck. I don’t know how to compare the fuel economy to my old truck, since the big tires on that one threw off the mileage calculations anyway. One trip into the office to get the correct bike tire won’t change much. The truck fits my needs, and since it’s primarily a recreational vehicle, who cares if it drinks slightly more fuel? The big expense—paying for the truck—is done, and soon the cap will be too. Selling Big Red will also bring in some money. Choosing this truck isn’t going to permanently alter my life; I didn’t even touch my savings or investments.

The repulsive chemical smell of the new interior is rapidly fading. The hard plastic of the steering wheel is irritating my hands less, and it feels less “plastic-y” now that I’ve broken it in a bit. I was going to get a cover because it annoyed me so much at first, but I think I’m becoming okay with it. I’m also figuring out the ins and outs of the various features, personalizing it, and getting to know it. The things I didn’t love I am overcoming, and the things I did love—like how it handles rural roads—I am loving even more. It’s big, but not so big that it’s hard to drive; it’s only slightly larger than my lifted Silverado. I am adapting. Still, change is hard, and the cost of both the truck and the cap is a bit of a shock.