I was staring at a desert flat as I drove 75 miles an hour, somehow enjoying a moment of zen on Interstate 15 in a body-on-frame pickup truck. I’d been piloting a Nissan Frontier Pro-4X across 130 miles of the Mojave for the past two days, and at this point, pavement felt like a luxury.
As I watched mile markers whip past me and dug deeper into my thoughts about the trip, I was overcome with sentimentality. I knew every sign proclaiming ever-fewer miles to Las Vegas, our final destination, was one fewer minute I’d have with this truck. I started getting misty-eyed. I was loath to hand it back to Nissan; I eyed exit signs and my watch, wondering if we had time for one last romp through the desert.
