Ride Along

By Evan Young Weaver

A late 1960s, used, white-top, tan-bodied Toyota FJ Troopy. That’s what my dad drove.

The dog was Hairy Ass Trueman by name and shaggy by look, but with the swagger of a prince awaiting his coronation. He rode along in the Whites and Presidentials as the most golden, Golden Retriever.

A dozen or so leased, war-fleet white or silver Land Cruiser variants—because we went through them quickly over there. Sometimes, shades of gray or scorched were what I drove. The dusty white puppy made my truck his hideout for a few days. He was Jackpot by name and Jackpot by luck. I sure thought I had won some kind of prize. He was born on an airfield and died on the same. The luckiest, unlucky Jackpot.

All silly vets love their Toy, Yo, Yotas, and why be different? They just work. They just fit with a good dog and a gritty personality. Really, a good dog with any cheap truck will do. There were brother-and-sister blueticks in a classic black-and-chrome, custom wood flatbed Chevy dually back in New Hampshire. Another vintage, clean white Ford 350 with a nice black pit named for the Florida town I lived in… all great ride-alongs, but perhaps not as black and white as the colors of that last pair.

My son-of-a-bitch, rough, WWII POW grandfather chose maroon and white on his International Scout Rallye II for all his champion tri-color beagles, but also for his Brittany named Sydney. Then he chose seafoam green on his Mazda B2500—talking about cheap trucks. I used to ride along in that in Acadia for a Maine sunset or sunrise or just because, with a beagle or three between us on the blanketed but rough cloth bench seat.

My Scout came home in Kansas in a green Toyota, of course, because writers do things writers do before they are writers. I drive what is basically just a fancy green Toyota 4×4, and she still rides along and waits to ride along, but it’s a different truck. Like father, like son—for a bit. As it goes, traits transition. I hope I see who drives what, where, and with what dog next.

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This first appeared in The Havok Journal on March 6, 2025.

Evan Young Weaver is a New Hampshire native and Army Veteran. The dog is Scout, and she’s a Texas Heeler. Evan is beginning his MFA at USM-Stonecoast this Spring. He is proud to be part of the veteran writing community.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.