My First Ride: A Love Letter to a 1987 Nissan Hardbody

For my generation, there were a handful of milestones we counted down to like holidays. Your first bike. Your first crush. Starting high school. Getting your driver’s license. And finally, the crown jewel of teenage freedom: owning your first vehicle. I’ve got stories for all of those, but today belongs to the tale of how I ended up with my first ride, a truck that would eventually earn the name “The Red Hornet.”

The Red Hornet was a 1987 Nissan SE V6 extended‑cab hardbody pickup. I don’t know much about its early life, but it rolled into my world when my brother bought it from a man named Popsicle Sweat, who ran a little used‑car lot out in the country here in Southwest Virginia. That was 1991. My brother drove it for two years before deciding he wanted something different and planned to sell it.

The truck had proven itself a dependable workhorse, and my dad, who always knew a good vehicle when he saw one, bought it from him outright. Dad owned several vehicles for his business and rotated through them constantly, so none of them ever got much mileage.

After about a year, Dad mentioned he’d sell the Nissan if the right offer came along. It was 1993, and I was a year away from getting my license. I loved that truck, and since it was staying in the family, I figured I might get a good deal. To my surprise, Dad wanted the same price from me that he wanted from anyone else: twelve hundred dollars.

For most fifteen‑year‑olds, that would have been an impossible number. But I wasn’t most fifteen‑year‑olds. Dad owned his own business and had given me a job when I was fourteen. He didn’t pay much, but I had income. I even offered to work for free until the truck was paid off, but he shut that down immediately. He wanted cash.

In a move that still feels strange, he went to the bank and took out a personal loan for the $1200, using the truck as collateral. Then he handed me the payment book. My job was simple: make the payments. When the loan was paid off, he’d sign the title over to me. That was all the motivation I needed. I worked hard for him all through 1993 and picked up odd jobs for other people whenever I could. I don’t think I’ve ever been that determined before or since.

Some months I made two payments instead of one. I knocked the twelve‑month loan down to eight. On January 30, 1994, I turned sixteen. I had my learner’s permit, so I drove the Hornet with Dad riding shotgun to the DMV and got my official license. From there, we went straight to the bank. I made the final two payments, Dad got the title, signed it, and we headed back to the DMV to make it official.

On my sixteenth birthday, I became the proud owner of my very first vehicle, paid for with a year of sweat and determination. I’ve rarely felt that kind of pride since.

As a birthday gift, my brother bought and installed a Pioneer CD player for the truck. In 1994, having an in‑dash CD player was still a big deal. The next week, I added chrome exhaust tips, which gave the truck a loud, buzzing growl. That sound is what earned it the name “The Red Hornet.”

Owning that truck meant everything to me. I no longer had to ride the bus. I could drive to school, which instantly bumped my cool factor. More friends wanted to hang out. More girls said yes when I asked them out. That truck was freedom on four wheels, and I made a lifetime’s worth of memories in it.

The Red Hornet stayed with me for four years, right up until I bought a Mustang. To afford the Mustang, I sold the truck back to Dad for a thousand dollars. Considering I’d paid twelve hundred and driven it for four years, I’d say I got a pretty good deal.

The Hornet stayed in the family until around 2004, when Dad finally sold it outside the clan. A few years later, I saw it on the road, still loud, still buzzing like an angry insect, with a teenage kid behind the wheel. I hope he understood what that truck represented. I hope he felt even a fraction of what I felt when I sat behind that wheel and pointed it toward the open road.

Because for me, the Red Hornet wasn’t just a truck. It was the beginning of everything.