My friends told me not to buy a Ram.
These are not friends who have never opened a hood and base their entire opinion of a vehicle on something their uncle said in 2004. I've spent most of my working life in the automotive business, and so have a lot of the people around me. They have opinions. Strong ones.
I listened to them, considered their advice carefully, and bought a 2017 Ram 1500 Laramie anyway.
I picked it up on Saturday. By Monday morning, I needed a tow truck.
My 2003 GMC Yukon Denali—the GMT800 we've owned for five years—has never needed a tow truck. The Yukon is still here, by the way. At the moment, it has the deeply irritating habit of starting every time I ask it to.
Why I bought a truck in the first place
I wasn't trying to escape a failing Yukon. I love that thing. The 6.0-litre V8 runs beautifully, it has carried our family on road trips and adventures, and after years together I have a pretty good idea what it needs and what it doesn't.
What it doesn't have is a pickup bed.
A fat-tire e-bike fits inside the Yukon, technically. Getting it in there with camping gear, drone equipment, and everything else our family brings along is another matter. A crew-cab truck made practical sense, and the Ram had the space, the Hemi, the eight-speed, a comfortable interior and a look that grew on me the more I stood beside it.
Its name is Boomer. The two-tone paint, chrome and brown Laramie interior probably had something to do with that.
The shortest honeymoon in truck history
We picked Boomer up on Saturday. On Monday, the starter quit and the truck had to be towed. The starter was dealt with, but that first morning was a fairly effective way to test my enthusiasm for a new purchase.
I still liked the truck. I just wanted to spend a little time actually driving it.
Meanwhile, we had new Toyo Open Country AT3 tires in 285/65R20 to install. I had also bought a two-inch leveling kit, because of course I had.
One of my coworkers—also named Ryan—had asked if I was going to level the Ram. Obviously. His truck wasn't leveled, which meant I had an opportunity to be the superior Ryan. I don't make the rules.
There was one small complication: Boomer was already leveled. It had leveling struts installed before I bought it. We discovered that after I'd bought a kit and started arranging the work. The new kit was unnecessary. The superior Ryan had failed to establish even the most basic facts about his own truck.
At least the tires looked fantastic once they were on. Boomer finally had the stance I'd pictured, and for a brief, glorious moment I thought we were through the awkward part.
Then the alignment became a project
The shop couldn't complete the alignment because of seized control-arm hardware. That led to the news that Boomer needs both lower control arms replaced. I bought heavy-duty NAPA TTX arms and the additional hardware, and the truck is back at the shop for the work.
I don't know that the tires or leveling caused the control arms to need replacement. Those are wear parts on a used truck. But finding out now—while trying to align expensive new tires—has been rotten timing. I was advised to keep driving to a minimum until it was sorted so I wouldn't chew up the tires.
I drove it a little anyway and noticed a rattle at the right front and a loose feeling through the truck. Then a service-stability warning showed up on the dash. I don't know yet whether that warning is connected to the front-end work or whether it is a separate problem. It's one more thing I need the shop to look at before I can relax and enjoy driving Boomer.
The really maddening thought? I could have had the dealership on the mainland deal with the new tires before I brought the truck home. If all of this had come to light there, the conversation might have been very different. I chose to arrange the tire and suspension work here, and now I'm living through every step of it. I can't honestly pin the alignment saga on the dealer; the truck drove straight when I bought it.
Meanwhile, there's the GMT800 Yukon
I'm trying to sell our Yukon because I need the money from it. I can't pretend that keeping two personal trucks is a painless option right now.
But selling an old vehicle you know well is strange. People see a 23-year-old GMT800 with 276,000 kilometres and inspect every possible flaw. That's fair; buyers should look carefully. Still, when somebody starts grinding on the price of a roughly $6,500 Yukon that has taken us everywhere, has new tires, and has never left us waiting for a tow, it gets under my skin.
It's not perfect. I'm not claiming it is. The paint has seen better days, the steering has wear, and it has the kinds of little issues that come with age. I also know how dependable it has been for us. Standing beside it while my newer, much more expensive pickup is back at the shop makes that distinction feel enormous.
Do I regret buying the Ram?
Today? A little bit, yes.
That doesn't mean Boomer is a bad truck or that every friend who warned me about Rams gets to spend the rest of the year being smug. It means I bought a truck I love, immediately had to tow it, stumbled into a leveling-kit comedy, and then found myself paying for lower control arms before I've even settled into the driver's seat.
I still need a bed. I still love the way this Laramie looks with the new tires. When I finally get it back, aligned and driving properly, I want to put some miles on it and find out what owning it is actually like.
For now, the Yukon starts, the Ram is at the shop, and I am reconsidering several decisions while looking at a driveway with one very smug GMC in it.
Maybe the next chapter will make me feel better. It would be nice if Boomer gave me a chance to write it from the driver's seat.
Would you sell the Yukon, or find a way to keep it?
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