Early morning thoughts of Nostalgia *WARNING: NOVEL AHEAD*

I hate doing this. My mind constantly switches its’ train of automotive thought. I just got the Dakota registered, and already I’m starting to want this again. “This” being to find the ‘84 Bronco my Dad sold April 20th, 2004. I was 4.

The real kicker? I have a name and an address. But it ain’t there on Google, and the guy has no social media. I didn’t get a number. And it’s in a fairly shitty area. Provided it’s actually still around. It was last registered in 2009.


About the same time, I saw it on Craigslist, spurning this whole hunt on. It really kicked in February 3rd, 2014 (According to the Craigslist publishing history.) I remember the thought. When it was for sale in 2008, the guy wanted $500. Dad didn’t want a project, and had just bought a ‘95 F-150, so he passed on it.

Back to 2/3/14. I was in 9th grade. It was first hour. Around 8 o’clock I think. Thinking of it (Why, I don’t know) when it hit me: I had the asking price saved up. The plan was really stupid, looking back; Dad kept the spare keys upon selling it. I figured I’d post an ad to find it, and if the keys started the truck, that was it. Otherwise, I’d keep looking. Pfft, like that would’ve worked.

I quickly realized the VIN (which I did not have) was a necessity. Tried the DMV, they said no on 3 separate occasions. Craigslist was all I had.

Fast forward to December of last year. My school counselor, who I commonly chat with, suggested calling the place that insured it. I’d tried to ask Dad before, but he said they wouldn’t bother since we aren’t insured with them anymore. Guess what? I got the VIN.


1FMEU15H8ELA93558. I typed that from memory.

I waited around a few more months, posting in Bronco groups and running my Craigslist ad, before I broke down and asked a PI to run the VIN for me. They did, leading to what I described at the start.


I don’t know what to do. I mailed the address (yes, really) but never got a response. Then, if I do find it and buy it, it’ll need a restoration. There’s no garage space. Maybe keep it at my Grandfather’s if he’s okay with it.

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