The Untimely End of Totoyaya

In mid-February, as I was sat in the armchair of our living room nursing our new baby boy, Phoenix, I received a confusing message on the contact page of my blog. It read:

“Due to unfortunate circumstances this vehicle was rolled in Nashville TN. I’m a cruiser lover and purchased it. While having other intentions with the vehicle, my wife promptly informed me that the vehicle has a new destiny. She fell in love with the truck and we are going to bring it back to life. Totoyaya will live on. I will keep you guys posted of the progress.”

Huh?!?!?!?

Last we’d heard Totoyaya had been slowly making her way from Dallas toward Boston, with a pit-stop in Asheville, North Carolina to attend the Overland Expo. The previous spring, we’d finally parted ways with our beloved home-on-wheels, selling her on to a guy named Amir from Boston, who had plans to bring her to Alaska, and eventually, through China and Pakistan, his home land.

Mind you, we hadn’t heard from Amir since September. I’d often wondered how he was getting on with his new rig – and when he was really going to hit the road with Totoyaya. See, last March, he’d flown out from Boston to pick her up in Tucson, but was only able to drive her as far as Dallas before catching a flight back to his family and work. Those responsibilities kept Amir away from Totoyaya for the next five months.

So when we heard in the fall that Amir was headed back to Dallas to finally bring her home, we were relieved. Finally, Totoyaya would be back on the road where she belonged!

Fall turned into winter and our pregnancy, trip to France, and temporary move to Nova Scotia, became the forefront of our thoughts. In our minds, Totoyaya was safely tucked away in Boston, awaiting the adventures spring would bring.

It turns out that Totoyaya never made it to Boston. She never even made it to Asheville. While driving toward the Overland Expo, Amir was run off the road by another vehicle. Totoyaya rolled, and the cell where Bruno and I had lived for five years was destroyed.

We were shocked. In twenty years, Totoyaya had never gotten so much as a scrape (apart from during off-roading mishaps), and here she was… almost totalled.

Emails bounced back and forth between me and Chad, the apparent new owner of our poor, beloved vehicle. As the shock subsided, relief set in. Totoyaya would be saved! Chad was a Land Cruiser restorer, and thanks to his wife, he would restore Totoyaya and eventually take his family on adventures! This is exactly what we had always wanted for Totoyaya – it was the reason we wrote on our for-sale ad that we would only sell to travelers, and why we’d felt comfortable selling to Amir. Totoyaya deserved an owner who would love her, who would give her a second life, who’d allow her to continue fulfilling her destiny.

Almost two more months passed – a blur of nursing, changing and teaching Phoenix to sleep. Our minds didn’t wander to Totoyaya often, but when they did, we felt at peace. We’d moved on, and she was in good hands.

So, again, you can understand our shock, when, while (again) sat in the armchair of our living room nursing Phoenix, I received a message from a Chilean guy who’d been an admirer of Totoyaya ever since he’d seen her initial for-sale post eighteen months before.

It was a screen shot of the Toyota Land Cruiser Association Facebook group. A for-sale post. Written by Chad. Selling Totoyaya.

What?!?!?!?!?

I immediately shot an email off to Chad. What’s this about? Why are you selling Totoyaya? What happened to your restoration plans? What’s going on?!?!?!

Twenty minutes later, a reply: The rebuild was off. Chad and his wife were going to be opening a restaurant, and didn’t have the time or resources to undertake the work required to build Totoyaya 2.0

Chad was selling Totoyaya. Without a title (Amir hadn’t given him the documents, apparently). To the first buyer willing to pay.

The Chilean guy told me he’d buy it. He loved Totoyaya’s story and would love to rebuild her. He’d already contacted a friend who could import her, and he had a shipping agent who could get it to Argentina. He just needed a title.

We immediately sent an email to Amir, updating him on the situation and pleading with him to send us all the paperwork he had for Totoyaya.

Two days passed. Amir didn’t reply. I reached back out to the Chilean guy, asking him if he could do anything without the title. I logged onto Facebook to glance at Chad’s for-sale ad. It had been updated – and now stated that Totoyaya was also for sale on eBay.

Oh-no. eBay?!?! There aren’t a whole lot of overlanders searching for cool vehicles to rebuild on eBay – only scalpers eager for parts off old vehicles. If Chad sold the vehicle on eBay, Totoyaya would be broken down for her spare parts!! I couldn’t imagine a more horrible ending to this epic, beloved vehicle. Someone HAD to save her!!!

Just as uttered those thoughts, my phone vibrated with a new email. From Chad.

I didn’t want to open it. Somehow I knew what that email would say.

“I am sorry to inform you that the truck will be a donor for his iron pig.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Think of it like a transplant,” the email continued. “The heart will live on”.

My own heart dropped.

“I am keeping both front doors. I consider them art and they will be hanging in my garage.”

So that’s it. Totoyaya is gone. She was broken down into parts about a month ago. Her cell is in pieces in a garbage dump in Tennessee; her Petit Prince doors hanging in some guy’s garage who doesn’t even understand the meaning of the art he exhibits; her engine transplanted into god-knows what vehicle. And the rest, well, I have no idea where the rest of Totoyaya is.

For twenty years, Totoyaya served Bruno faithfully. She was more than a vehicle. More, even, than a home. She was the manifestation of his childhood dream. The physical symbol of his freedom.

She was the reason Bruno and I met. The nest where we fell in love. Where we dreamed dreams. Planned our future. She’s the very reason we now have a baby called Phoenix.

Yes, we will always hold her in our hearts. Yes, I know I’ll always have the memories.

Yes, yes, I know she’s just a thing.

But she didn’t deserve this end. She had so much more life to give. She could have been the bearer of memories and dreams and futures for someone else. She could have meant someone else’s freedom.

Had I know, a year ago, when we tearfully sent her off to Amir in Tucson, that this would be her end, I’d have shed twice as many tears.

Rest in peace, Totoyaya. We will never forget you, and are so grateful for all that you have given us.