GARAGE
ARRIVAL 2017 Ford F-250 Super Duty King Ranch Jonny Lieberman
“A lot changes when you have your first son. You have to make practical choices, like trading in 707 horsepower for 925 lb-ft of torque.”
I have made a terrible mistake. To understand what I mean, we have to back up to earlier this year, before my now 6-month-old son, Richard, was born (definitely not the mistake).
Executive editor Mark Rechtin was trying to assign me a new long-term vehicle. In an email subjected “Durango Dad,” Mark wrote: “Figured you might need something a bit more kid-friendly than the long-term Hellcat you’re getting out of. Arriving this week is the new Durango. Seems like that might make a good fit for your situation, yes?” Mark was thinking very logically, but of course I’ve made a career out of being an obstinate weirdo. So no thank you, I’m not going to be a Durango Dad. I elected instead to wait until our 2017 Truck of the Year long-termer, a two-tone Ford F-250 King Ranch 4x4, showed up. Call me Super Duty Dad!
I like having slightly left-of-center long-term vehicles. Helps me think of interesting things to do with them. My first was a Cadillac CTS-V wagon with a six-speed manual. I drove that dreamboat across 11 states, plus Germany and Holland. After that I had a Jaguar F-Type R—the 2015 model, the only year the 550-hp monster had rear-wheel drive—and I can still show you where some tire marks are. The Charger Hellcat, well, a 707-hp family sedan speaks for itself. I also had a Volvo S60 T5, but all I can remember about it are the seats. They were exceptional. I figured that a 4-ton (8,020 pounds on our scales), 21-foot behemoth with 925 lb-ft of torque would make the perfect late-night diaper runner. You know what? I was right. For about three weeks.
When Richard was not quite 2 months old, we moved into our new home. At our old house I could have easily parked a fleet of Super Duties, no problem. That old dump was parking nirvana, so to speak. The new pad? Well, the listing read “at the end of a cul-de-sac on a private street.” It turns out that’s Realtor-speak for “at the narrow dead end of a street not maintained by the city of Los Angeles.” Although the whole family loves the new digs, I am slightly less in love with the big Ford. About 100 of its 250 inches sticks out onto said “private street” when the F-250 is in our driveway. Did I mention that this
