This the classic debate, among all people with the sense to care anyway. I used to drive a 1985 Ford half-ton pickup. My dad drives a 1985 Chevy half-ton pickup. These pickups have many similarities, but even more differences. I may be a little biased in my opinions, but I will try to present a fair and unprejudiced comparison and contrast of these two vehicles.
Both of these not so expensive trucks did share a few similarities. They both had four wheels, a bed, and a steering wheel. That is about the extent of it. For being the same model year, these pickups were very different. I guess they both have glove boxes now that I think about it, but even those were shaped differently.
My Ford was magnificent. It had a 302 CID fuel injected V8 with enough torque to smoke the tires from a dead stop, with a slight boost from a little Clorox bleach. The motor was solid and stood up well to any and every punishment I threw at it. It could do everything from drag racing little Japanese cars to spinning around in mud. It got about twelve miles to the gallon on any given day. She revved a little high at idle, but that was her worst.
Conversely, my dad’s Chevy was slightly less magnificent. It was boasting a 350 CID carbureted motor with the minimal torque required to bark all four tires. She only got seven miles to the gallon, though. I can’t complain about the strength of the motor, but I was not intimate enough with the truck to know what it was capable of doing. All in all, the Chevy motor has a different idle speed, power curve, and horsepower.
My Ford was styled totally different than the Chevy. The Ford was a long box, with the long wheelbase option, and low ground clearance. On the other hand, the Chevy was a too-tall short box with a short wheelbase. My Ford was a somewhat curved body, whereas my dad’s Chevy was a very blocky looking beast. The body options were outright opposites.
When it comes right down to it, both vehicles got from A to B. The differences, be it minor or major, did not affect the ability of the vehicles to carry out their primary function. As it so happened, my truck died first, leaving me a skulking husk of humiliation. Maybe the name on the back of the pickup has no real meaning at all.
