Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
There can be no perfection in automobile ownership. Owning a Tercel wagon is the affirmation of this. No matter how well we are treated by our Tercels, we want more. No matter how badly we are treated by our Tercels, we hope for a better tomorrow. Our beloved Tercel wagon helps us to be optimistic.
The Tercel wagon outwardly flaunts it’s utilitarianism. What it shows on the outside is what it delivers on the inside. Those who appreciate it will comment when you stop for replenishment. Those who cannot appreciate it will never see it. The Tercel is invisible to the unbelievers.
The Tercel has been called an SUV by those who do not understand. While the Tercel is resplendent in it’s utility, it is definitely lacking in sport. We do not use the term sadly lacking.
The Tercel wagon was sent to us to teach us patience. “What time will we arrive?â€
The Tercel wagon outwardly flaunts it’s utilitarianism. What it shows on the outside is what it delivers on the inside. Those who appreciate it will comment when you stop for replenishment. Those who cannot appreciate it will never see it. The Tercel is invisible to the unbelievers.
The Tercel has been called an SUV by those who do not understand. While the Tercel is resplendent in it’s utility, it is definitely lacking in sport. We do not use the term sadly lacking.
The Tercel wagon was sent to us to teach us patience. “What time will we arrive?â€
"And to see you're really only very small
and life flows on within you and without you." George Harrison
and life flows on within you and without you." George Harrison
I thought I should have called it the Tao of Tercel, but my wife disagreed.
Of course, she also wanted to know if I'd been drinking to come up with something like that in the middle of the night. I hadn't.
Of course, she also wanted to know if I'd been drinking to come up with something like that in the middle of the night. I hadn't.
"And to see you're really only very small
and life flows on within you and without you." George Harrison
and life flows on within you and without you." George Harrison
- splatterdog
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- Goldie Forever
- Posts: 6369
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2005 1:52 pm
- My tercel:: Goldie is a 1986 SR5 attualmente con Weber/also owned the first T4WD in STL in late '82
- Location: Kirkwood, a 'burb of St. Louis
A T4WD Ode
Definitely not in the same class as neonsport's paen, but interesting nevertheless (Stolen from Epinions. com (check out the link in Gallery Road Tests):
I got my car when I was just 16.
A third generation gift I received.
I beat it. I kicked it.
I abused it. I neglected it.
Daily I dreaded its dull, two tone blue.
Like a soccer mom who,
Had two kids it made me appear,
Not a man with four wheels and a future that was clear.
It was a box on wheels, not curve to be seen.
I should have had something flashy, not this obscene machine.
I shouldn't drive a station wagon that made me look old.
I need a car that was dynamic and bold.
I wanted a car that would go fast.
One that would corner.
Not something that would last.
Oh why, Oh why; I often wondered
was I cursed with such a dread machine.
It only had 90 horses
85 was the last number on the speedometer seen.
It had no gadgets or whistles or frills or bells.
No modern accessories would stop this hell.
No injectors of fuel.
No ABS brakes.
No computers or CD players.
Or Systems of supplemental restraint.
This car had no claims to fame
Just AM/FM/cassette, a stick, and seatbelts
Tried to make this car great.
As I drove I found this car had some pluses,
It had lots of room, which I used in abundance.
It had four wheel drive and a low profile,
I dashed through the snow when e'er I could avail.
When the snow fell in Boston,
as a cruel joke of April fool
A Bar-B-Q seemed like the proper thing to do.
While the others were stuck,
Blocked by snow and not moving,
My little blue bomb cut through like a steaming
Iron, that could not be stopped.
We got to the store,
Lots of meat we bought.
And turned a strange, April first bore.
In to a story that seemed fetched and far
Because of the moxy of my little car.
Every so often it needed repair
This is a car after all, not indestructible fare.
It can't be taken for granted that the repair list was small,
For 17 years it need almost nothing at all:
A water pump, brakes, An alternator or two
A clutch, a battery, what more could I do?
Once the timing belt needed replacin',
That plus the transmission
and the engine was again racin'.
One thing I can say that must be noted,
At 149K, the car was not smokin'.
All the oil stayed where it was supposed to be
I finer engine build I have yet to see.
The comfort of this car is quite revealing.
Compared to new cars where my head hits the ceiling.
The top of the windshield never blocked my view
The seats softly held all of me and of you.
The seats of cloth, never ripped or tore
They probably would have lasted through the days of yore.
My feet were never squeezed or cramped
By the dashboard or under the proceeding seat, trapped.
I think back to my poor POS.
That car had style and that car had class.
Compared to it, new cars seem like such a pain,
They seem to require fuel of high octane
They need to be babied.
They need fancy service.
Fixing my new car makes me feel nervous.
My old car always seemed so trouble free.
I never worried if it would be there for me.
My poor little car came through in the pinch.
I always started up like a cinch.
It left me with memories
For me it would always wait
My car took me on my first date.
It took me to prom.
It took me to school.
It took me to work.
It took me to play.
It took me to my girl
When she was far away
It took me to things,
Both good and bad.
My car made me happy
It was with me when I was sad.
My car lasted for seventeen years
It finally died in December of last year.
The rebuilt transmission just couldn't take the abuse.
One of the bearing had finally come loose.
A piece of me died that day.
Something so full of memory had to go away.
There are days that I just sit and wish I could have it back,
But the Toyota factory took a different tact.
They stopped producing this fine automobile
It just didn't sell, retailers couldn't deal
My car, god willing, is sitting in some better place.
Having served me and my parents in great faith.
My car is there,
If there is a car heaven,
That wonderful piece
Of Japanese engineering.
I got my car when I was just 16.
A third generation gift I received.
I beat it. I kicked it.
I abused it. I neglected it.
Daily I dreaded its dull, two tone blue.
Like a soccer mom who,
Had two kids it made me appear,
Not a man with four wheels and a future that was clear.
It was a box on wheels, not curve to be seen.
I should have had something flashy, not this obscene machine.
I shouldn't drive a station wagon that made me look old.
I need a car that was dynamic and bold.
I wanted a car that would go fast.
One that would corner.
Not something that would last.
Oh why, Oh why; I often wondered
was I cursed with such a dread machine.
It only had 90 horses
85 was the last number on the speedometer seen.
It had no gadgets or whistles or frills or bells.
No modern accessories would stop this hell.
No injectors of fuel.
No ABS brakes.
No computers or CD players.
Or Systems of supplemental restraint.
This car had no claims to fame
Just AM/FM/cassette, a stick, and seatbelts
Tried to make this car great.
As I drove I found this car had some pluses,
It had lots of room, which I used in abundance.
It had four wheel drive and a low profile,
I dashed through the snow when e'er I could avail.
When the snow fell in Boston,
as a cruel joke of April fool
A Bar-B-Q seemed like the proper thing to do.
While the others were stuck,
Blocked by snow and not moving,
My little blue bomb cut through like a steaming
Iron, that could not be stopped.
We got to the store,
Lots of meat we bought.
And turned a strange, April first bore.
In to a story that seemed fetched and far
Because of the moxy of my little car.
Every so often it needed repair
This is a car after all, not indestructible fare.
It can't be taken for granted that the repair list was small,
For 17 years it need almost nothing at all:
A water pump, brakes, An alternator or two
A clutch, a battery, what more could I do?
Once the timing belt needed replacin',
That plus the transmission
and the engine was again racin'.
One thing I can say that must be noted,
At 149K, the car was not smokin'.
All the oil stayed where it was supposed to be
I finer engine build I have yet to see.
The comfort of this car is quite revealing.
Compared to new cars where my head hits the ceiling.
The top of the windshield never blocked my view
The seats softly held all of me and of you.
The seats of cloth, never ripped or tore
They probably would have lasted through the days of yore.
My feet were never squeezed or cramped
By the dashboard or under the proceeding seat, trapped.
I think back to my poor POS.
That car had style and that car had class.
Compared to it, new cars seem like such a pain,
They seem to require fuel of high octane
They need to be babied.
They need fancy service.
Fixing my new car makes me feel nervous.
My old car always seemed so trouble free.
I never worried if it would be there for me.
My poor little car came through in the pinch.
I always started up like a cinch.
It left me with memories
For me it would always wait
My car took me on my first date.
It took me to prom.
It took me to school.
It took me to work.
It took me to play.
It took me to my girl
When she was far away
It took me to things,
Both good and bad.
My car made me happy
It was with me when I was sad.
My car lasted for seventeen years
It finally died in December of last year.
The rebuilt transmission just couldn't take the abuse.
One of the bearing had finally come loose.
A piece of me died that day.
Something so full of memory had to go away.
There are days that I just sit and wish I could have it back,
But the Toyota factory took a different tact.
They stopped producing this fine automobile
It just didn't sell, retailers couldn't deal
My car, god willing, is sitting in some better place.
Having served me and my parents in great faith.
My car is there,
If there is a car heaven,
That wonderful piece
Of Japanese engineering.
T4WD augury?
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
- ARCHINSTL
- Goldie Forever
- Posts: 6369
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2005 1:52 pm
- My tercel:: Goldie is a 1986 SR5 attualmente con Weber/also owned the first T4WD in STL in late '82
- Location: Kirkwood, a 'burb of St. Louis
And Yet Another...
The things one discovers when it's cold outside...the T4WD certainly seems to have inspired poetic endeavors!
This one from Ontario (I think...).
http://theascent.spaces.live.com/blog/cns! Sixth entry down:
May 09
Goodbye to the '87 Tercel
I sit in her bucket seat that feels like new
Touring up to Coombs, one last ride,
87’Tercel four by four, five speed, extra low,
rust sprinkling out along the road,
trails of bread crumbs not followed back,
undercarriage weakened
years of highway salt pitting at her base,
the engine now a roar, muffler fragmented holes
lines corroded beyond economical repair,
chassis crumpling on the hoist.
I shift gears as I have for twenty years,
smooth partnership, an extension of my arm,
sun roof imagined opened wide, its frayed
silver ribbons of duct tape holding back the leaks.
I’ve cleaned her out, registration on the seat and
for a moment I smell her new car smell,
see myself pull from the dealer lot, shift into second
on her first trip home;
those many nights she blasted through
winter drifts,
that afternoon returning from the north,
Toronto grid locked in snow,
army called in, the Tercel cutting first tracks
up our street, two feet of snow,
no one moving, surfing the wave,
in extra low, neighbours, mouths agape
leaning on their shovels,
revved and spun her left into our driveway.
Today I pull her into Arrowsmith Auto Parts
to donate her organs, try not to imagine
her body in the compactor’s jaws.
I think of all the nights I’ve slept with her,
the twister night when the tent blew down,
changed her tires in the cold night Halley’s comet sky
a few beers, sweating off the dancing,
faint music warm inside,
blew her clutch over north Lake Superior on the trek out west,
laid over in Wawa her packed with garden plants
we couldn’t part with and our home-made wine.
A five and twenty in my pocket now
after all the parts, organs, dismemberment
rust gnawing on her bones,
her slow burning up, I ask
what happens to her soul?
This one from Ontario (I think...).
http://theascent.spaces.live.com/blog/cns! Sixth entry down:
May 09
Goodbye to the '87 Tercel
I sit in her bucket seat that feels like new
Touring up to Coombs, one last ride,
87’Tercel four by four, five speed, extra low,
rust sprinkling out along the road,
trails of bread crumbs not followed back,
undercarriage weakened
years of highway salt pitting at her base,
the engine now a roar, muffler fragmented holes
lines corroded beyond economical repair,
chassis crumpling on the hoist.
I shift gears as I have for twenty years,
smooth partnership, an extension of my arm,
sun roof imagined opened wide, its frayed
silver ribbons of duct tape holding back the leaks.
I’ve cleaned her out, registration on the seat and
for a moment I smell her new car smell,
see myself pull from the dealer lot, shift into second
on her first trip home;
those many nights she blasted through
winter drifts,
that afternoon returning from the north,
Toronto grid locked in snow,
army called in, the Tercel cutting first tracks
up our street, two feet of snow,
no one moving, surfing the wave,
in extra low, neighbours, mouths agape
leaning on their shovels,
revved and spun her left into our driveway.
Today I pull her into Arrowsmith Auto Parts
to donate her organs, try not to imagine
her body in the compactor’s jaws.
I think of all the nights I’ve slept with her,
the twister night when the tent blew down,
changed her tires in the cold night Halley’s comet sky
a few beers, sweating off the dancing,
faint music warm inside,
blew her clutch over north Lake Superior on the trek out west,
laid over in Wawa her packed with garden plants
we couldn’t part with and our home-made wine.
A five and twenty in my pocket now
after all the parts, organs, dismemberment
rust gnawing on her bones,
her slow burning up, I ask
what happens to her soul?
T4WD augury?
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
- ARCHINSTL
- Goldie Forever
- Posts: 6369
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2005 1:52 pm
- My tercel:: Goldie is a 1986 SR5 attualmente con Weber/also owned the first T4WD in STL in late '82
- Location: Kirkwood, a 'burb of St. Louis
Re: Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
Is "Zen...." missing some paragraphs? It seems like it is...
neonsport - do you still have a copy?
Tom M.
neonsport - do you still have a copy?
Tom M.
T4WD augury?
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
Re: Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
I do hope they find the rest of it, it was really inspiring. Neonsport bought our wreck for the engine, but after reading the "Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon", I almost backed out of the deal and started looking for another wagon to transplant all the good parts into, and I almost had one up in Nashville. Oh well.
Re: Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
Heh....
More? You think? Every time I see a T4wd for sale I get a little itchy. Damn Camry has been out of commission for 2 months... (grumble)... Freaking clutch+ everything else I've had to replace...
More? You think? Every time I see a T4wd for sale I get a little itchy. Damn Camry has been out of commission for 2 months... (grumble)... Freaking clutch+ everything else I've had to replace...
RIP 10-07- 1984 Toyota Tercel SR5 4wd Wagen 6 speed
RIP 04-05- 1986 Toyota Tercel SR5 4wd Wagen 6 speed
1st Terc- 1987 Tercel SR5 4wd Wagon 6-speed, Sadly cubed
1985 Tercel Standard 4wd Wagon w/ 3-speed auto, Living a happy life in Boulder last I knew
RIP 04-05- 1986 Toyota Tercel SR5 4wd Wagen 6 speed
1st Terc- 1987 Tercel SR5 4wd Wagon 6-speed, Sadly cubed
1985 Tercel Standard 4wd Wagon w/ 3-speed auto, Living a happy life in Boulder last I knew
Re: Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
Well,doggone,all of these a beautiful!! Garsh!! Have to go read again what William Blake wrote about the poetic genius clear back before there even was a Terc!!
See,I logged in feeling the same way,and already wrote "The Resurrection,10 Years after" as another post before I came here.It belongs here.Bob PS,Neonsport,Great Job!!! BOB
See,I logged in feeling the same way,and already wrote "The Resurrection,10 Years after" as another post before I came here.It belongs here.Bob PS,Neonsport,Great Job!!! BOB
Like my old Volvo 544 with 4wd.I seldom regret neversieze or threadlocker
- ARCHINSTL
- Goldie Forever
- Posts: 6369
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2005 1:52 pm
- My tercel:: Goldie is a 1986 SR5 attualmente con Weber/also owned the first T4WD in STL in late '82
- Location: Kirkwood, a 'burb of St. Louis
Re: Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
There is more to neonsport's paen. Hopefully he has a copy and will repost it. It truly is clever and touching and heartening.
The nearest probable paen that I can recall is an article in R & T about (gulp!) 50 years ago called "What is a Sports Car." I especially liked it because it had a note about the "...never-say-die little Singer which you can out-run, out-jump, and out-gun - but never out-try...." one of which I owned for 40 years. Have to dig it out and post it.
Tom M.
The nearest probable paen that I can recall is an article in R & T about (gulp!) 50 years ago called "What is a Sports Car." I especially liked it because it had a note about the "...never-say-die little Singer which you can out-run, out-jump, and out-gun - but never out-try...." one of which I owned for 40 years. Have to dig it out and post it.
Tom M.
T4WD augury?
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
"Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?' Let us go and make our visit."
T.S. Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
"Now and then we had a hope that, if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates."
Mark Twain
Re: Zen and the Toyota Tercel Wagon
That wasn't the same issue with the Denbeigh Super Chauvinist III was it? Or the road test of the Morgan Plus Four when you could still buy one? Or the brand new 427 AC Cobra you could buy for $ 7500 or so?Wasn't an XKE about $3500 then,and they even went through an "uncool" period where you could buy one used really cheap.
Ramblers,Studie Larks,Chevie 2's ,Falcons,Darts and Valiants.All products of the minds who knew scarcity in WW2.Enough car.
Introduced in a time of 25 cent gas,and Hoss Cartwright pushing 435 horse Corvettes on Bonanza.
A lot of people thought I was a whack with them funny furrin cars(63 Mini,Sprite,and 2 Volvo 544's)
The older we get,the better we wuz.
Wouldn' a retro '47 Studie bulletnose be a hoot? Sell them for $14,000 with a 30 MPG big hi-torque low RPM 4 cylCome on detroit, Bob
Ramblers,Studie Larks,Chevie 2's ,Falcons,Darts and Valiants.All products of the minds who knew scarcity in WW2.Enough car.
Introduced in a time of 25 cent gas,and Hoss Cartwright pushing 435 horse Corvettes on Bonanza.
A lot of people thought I was a whack with them funny furrin cars(63 Mini,Sprite,and 2 Volvo 544's)
The older we get,the better we wuz.
Wouldn' a retro '47 Studie bulletnose be a hoot? Sell them for $14,000 with a 30 MPG big hi-torque low RPM 4 cylCome on detroit, Bob
Like my old Volvo 544 with 4wd.I seldom regret neversieze or threadlocker