This wasn’t my first time driving the Tacoma, but it’s the first time I understood it.

As an automotive journalist, I drive a new car almost every week: long enough to admire them, but not long enough to form emotional attachments. I’m sad to see a particular vehicle go sometimes, but rarely do I get covetous for one, keep tabs on local dealers and drop endless rationalizations to my wife — who invariably and correctly reminds me I rarely drive the car I do own.
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