Tuesday, October 25, 2016

My Truck

The first adult thing I did after graduating from college (besides getting a job), was buying a car for the first time.

I picked a brand new 2006 Dodge Dakota, mostly because it was small enough for me to be able to park it without losing my mind, but strong enough to pull a horse trailer should I feel inclined to take my horse somewhere (which only happened once).

(I thought I had some pictures of it to share. But apparently I only have pictures of every other car we've owned.)

We haven't driven the truck much recently after upgrading our family car, so we decided to sell it. After sitting on Craigslist for months, suddenly it was gone. Like, one day someone made an offer. And the next they drove it away.

Leaving me awash in sentimentality.

Typically, after nagging my husband for months to get the truck sold, once the moment came I found myself having second thoughts. I mean, every dent, every spot, every scratch on that truck was mine. I had made memories with it for ten years.

Like the time I drove home from church with a stray kitten tucked under the fender.

Or the time I stuffed my very pregnant sister in the backseat for a trip to Taco Time.

Filling the bed full of blankets and pillows for a night at the drive-in.

Sitting for hours on the tailgate talking to (and kissing) the man who is now my husband.

Driving it home on my wedding night, with gummy bears and "Just Married" smeared all over the windows. (It was weeks before I washed it. And when strangers at the park-and-ride congratulated me on getting married, I couldn't figure out how they knew.)

Towing our camper and creeping up the hills to Flagstaff at 30 mph. While little old ladies in horse-drawn carriages flew past us.

Now my truck is gone. But in the end, the truck was just a truck. It's the memories I created with it that matter to me.

And it's the memories I get to keep forever.

Too bad the wad of cash we got for it won't last forever,
The Brown-Eyed Girl