Does It Make Sense For Me To Keep A Regular Cab Pickup Truck Now That I’m A Parent?

It’s 3:54 A.M. as I start writing this article. My son is sleeping in my room with me, and my wife is in a separate room recovering from COVID. My job was to look after him tonight; what actually happened is: He woke up, started crying, and two hours later I woke up to my wife soothing him wondering how the heck I sleep so soundly. It’s a gift and a curse. I’ll probably have to make it up to her.

Anyway, I relieved my wife of baby-Delmar-duties, and after an hour of feeding, rocking, and a bit of my go-to Elton John song, Delmar is asleep, and I just can’t seem to follow suit. I’m thinking about cars.

I’ve been thinking about cars at least half my waking hours for the last… probably 25 years or so. It’s objectively strange, but there’s just something captivating about them (as all of you, dear readers, know). For me, it’s a combination of factors that give a vehicle soul. Obviously, there’s styling and our innate tendency to assign a “face” to cars, almost as if to anthropomorphize them. Whether I know it or not, when I look at a Jeep XJ, I see a squared-off, lovable little billygoat. When I look at my BMW i3 I see a high-tech little EV underdog. When I see my Jeep J10 in the parking lot I see a brawny, tough old workhorse. But it’s not just the styling, it’s the engineering and the story behind the cars.

I love the unibody designs of my XJ and ZJ; I think their Quadra-Link/Quadra-Coil suspensions are the most amazing high-volume off-road suspensions ever devised, especially at the time. Their 4.0-liter straight sixes and their Japanese Aisin five-speed manual transmissions are a true match made in off-road heaven. I love the i3’s carbon fiber body and wacky rear range extender and skinny tires and eucalyptus wood dash.

But the stories, to me, are what give a vehicle soul. I love Jeep XJs and ZJs and YJs not just because they’re interestingly-styled, reliable off-road beasts, but because of plucky ol’ American Motors’ engineers somehow developing state-of-the-art machines on a shoestring budget, because of that Toledo assembly plant with a rich history dating back to WWII, because of now-car-industry-less Kenosha, Wisconsin and its four-liter engine plant. I love the i3 because it’s truly bonkers; it’s one of few times in auto history where a car company essentially told its best engineers: “Here’s a shit-ton of money. Go build the most cutting edge car you can think of.” And what they built, though a clear Noble Failure, drips with soul.

It’s that soul that keeps me thinking about cars, and though some of the soul comes from styling and for me lots of it comes from engineering, I think the majority comes from the people behind the machine. It’s their sweat-equity and their story that fuels my connection to these contraptions. It’s for this reason that I like to keep my vehicles stock or close-to-stock. “Stock is sacred,” I often say, as it’s the vehicle that rolled off the factory floor that represents the culmination of all that sweat equity; it is the final chapter of that vehicle program’s fascinating tale. (I realize that not everyone sees cars this way, with many folks heavily modifying their vehicles; for the record, I respect that element of car culture, too).

Anyway, it’s now 4:14, the same number of horsepower that the E9X BMW M3’s 4.0-liter V8 produced. I’m not sure why that number is stuck in my head forever. My brother owns an E93; I often wonder how those are still even remotely affordable given how incredible they are. I’m obviously rambling in this first and possibly final installation of DT Late-Night Baby Blogs, but here’s the current thought that has me staying up through this fatigue (and it’s one that I’ve mentioned before, but am struggling with): Does it make sense for a parent to keep a two-door car?

See, I own a 1985 Jeep J10, and though it’s not going to pass California emissions, there are other Jeep trucks out there that will. And they’re all two-door regular cabs. Notice how I didn’t say “but they’re all regular cabs,” I said “and.” Because regular cab trucks are the best in my view; they just look so perfect. The problem is, I have no idea if a truck like that fits into my future anymore.

What if I throw this into the ring? Does this change the calculus for anyone? (350 5spd extended cab). https://t.co/IQXYSri1TT pic.twitter.com/bw4uBUTXYK

— David Tracy (@davidntracy) September 6, 2025

Does it make sense for me to have a truck that I can’t drive my kids around in? Yes, the J10 is badass, and owning all the old cars I own is irrational, but at the very least I can drive my kid around in my old Mustang/Jeep XJ/ZJ/YJ, etc. The J10 has no rear seat, so it’d be just me.

Maybe that still works, as I could commute to work in it every now and again, and when I head to pick up big items for our house, I could just go alone? But wouldn’t I rather not go alone? I know my Chevy K1500 is old and unsafe, but if I’m doing a quick trash run or Home Depot run, wouldn’t I want to take my kid? And is the value of taking my kid more important than the fact that, yes, the Chevy is a bit boring compared to the J10? I’d think so, but I’ve only been a parent for 5 months, so what do I know?

It’s now 428, the displacement of Ford’s iconic Cobra Jet “FE” engine from the 60s, and I’ve got trucks on my mind. Should my beloved J10 go? Does it make sense to keep it when it’s just going to be me behind the wheel most of the time? And if the J10 doesn’t make sense because of SMOG issues, should I buy a different Jeep truck? Or is the Chevy — one of few cool extended-cab vehicles with a stickshift, even though I find it a bit boring compared to the Jeeps — the better move? Then again, I don’t really need a truck, so shouldn’t I keep the one I want? But then again, if it’d be just me driving it, and I’ve seen sooo many people chop up their old Jeep Gladiators/Comanches and turn them into extended cab trucks for their families — clearly they did that for a reason.

Anyway, I’m not sure if any of that was coherent. I’m tired. I should wait for someone on my team to make a good topshot for this story, but I’m just going to slap a picture of one of my trucks up there and hit publish. It’s 440, and I’ve got a Big Block of time I need to set aside for sleep, as it’s been a long night.