This ‘rig’ real good for haulin’ me some brie and wine

I‘ve never owned a “rig” until possibly now. I bought a VW Rabbit when I moved to northwestern Montana 30 years ago. It lived up to its color – lemon yellow. It was followed by a 1986 Toyota Tercel wagon, which sits in my driveway and still runs, and a 1991 Honda Accord. Now, the Tercel’s on the auction block, to be replaced by my brother-in-law’s 1999 Toyota 4Runner. The 4Runner has some aspects of “rigdom” – size, gas-guzzling ability, 4WD, age and a beagle. My truck-driving brother Ray deems the 4Runner to be a “rig.” But others don’t. A Token D, a regular participant in the Huckleberries Online cutline contest, opined: “It’s a rig if the original color cannot be determined because of the mud.” And someone has written “wash me” on the back window. At Roosevelt Lake, Inland Empire Girl sez a rig “has a cracked windshield, lots of dirt caked on the body, one or more dogs in the front, and it has at least one half empty to-go cup of coffee from the gas station in the cup holder.” Idaho Escapee sez you have to step up a coupla feet to get into a rig. Also, he said, a rig has premature nicks, scratches and dents – and contains tools, a chain saw, several chains of varying lengths and a few crushed beer cans for decoration. In other words, colleague Erica Curless drives a rig – a red 1994 Ford pickup, with a spare tire, bungee cords, a discarded lock, four broken bags of sand for winter traction, jumper cables and assorted empty pop cans in the back. It’s parked next to my 4Runner as I write this. It can haul hay. It puts my, ahem, rig to shame.