It all began, as most things do, as a crazy scheme.  My friend offered to exchange cars for one week.  "Which one of yours?" I asked. "The Civic?" 

"What about the F150?" 

Silence.

"Hello?  Are you there, Jas?"

Unbeknownst to my friend, a gleam had suddenly developed in my eye.  Images of me driving the country's (and probably the world's) largest pickup truck were swirling before my eyes.   I had to downplay my enthusiasm, or my friend might change his mind.  I adopted a nonchalant tone, bordering on the reluctant:

"Oh, okay.  I guess I won't mind." 

So it began.

Tuesday Night / Jason

This was the night that we exchanged cars.  Not really paying attention to these things before, I got my first long look at the Ford F150.

The F150 is, in a word, huge.  Getting it out my friend's labyrinthine garage wasn't too difficult, but it required extra caution.  All three dimensions were involved here: height, width and length.   I had to make sure not to stick it under split-aircon outdoor units that were hanging from the garage ceiling.  Things we wouldn't even worry about in a car but well within our line of sight from the F150 cockpit.

With columns liberally scattered around the garage, I had to make sure the truck didn't end up like a pinball.  The most daunting dimension though was the length.  I thought an S-class Mercedes was long enough.   Yet the Ford is far longer than the Merc, stretching almost 600 mm more!

For the first time ever, I was thankful for an automatic transmission.  It helped that I only had to pull the gearstick mounted on the steering column, just release the brake, and steer.  Centimeter by centimeter I maneuvered the truck towards the exit.

Whew!  Finally out of the garage! With a grin, I shifted to Drive, swung the truck's steering wheel, and merged with traffic.

Aware of the truck's bulk, I gave other vehicles a wide berth.  Until I discovered that wasn't necessary.  Cars and jeeps got out of my way, voluntarily!  That brutish visage isn't for nothing, after all.

I figured out that cornering speed is limited by courage more than the tires. I reached the limits of my own bravery long before I tested the truck's own cornering limits.   I felt the body sway and tilt under me, and I was aware of the massive vehicle behind me. It was certainly stable, but I just felt in my gut that this would definitely not corner anything like a car will.  So corners that I usually took at 50 km/h in a sedan I drove through at a meek 25 km/h.  After all, I heard of someone rolling one of these trucks here in the Philippines. 

I drove home with a silly grin pasted on my face, but the grin disappeared when I realized that I would have to fit the truck into my garage as well.  I was not surprised to discover that in a parking space that is very roomy for a Cefiro, the F150 took up all available space.  In all three dimensions.   There was just enough space for me to get down from the truck.  I couldn't help but pace several times around it to admire its gargantuan scale.  The garage, no the whole house, seemed to have shrunk!

Shutting off the F150, I discovered another aspect to its tendency to do everything as large as possible.  Other engines tick softly while cooling; the F150's engine CLANGS!