I sold my Dad's old truck yesterday, it's the only truck that he ever owned. Like many farmers he always wanted a truck but also like many farmers he was very practical, so a car would do, since he had tractors with trailers to use instead of a truck. One day he decided to finally buy one, he was so proud of his new toy, well actually not new but almost new.
It's a 1989 Dodge ram and it has been all over the countryside. There are a lot of memories tied to the truck, many of the farm dogs rode in the back, the special ones rode in the front, the most loved one spent her life riding shotgun. Almost anything you can think of was hauled in the back, from animals, lumber, groceries, lawnmowers to furniture. Dad wasn't supposed to be eating sweets but he usually had some hidden under the seat. He was excited because it had a tape player in it besides the radio. He kept a stack of tapes in the glove compartment in case of long road trips, most unfortunately I couldn't stand but it was his truck so I didn't complain.
Dad took excellent care of his truck, in the later years he mostly just used it on the farm, he didn't want to take the chance of breaking down somewhere far from home. We have a second farm actually, it's about a kilometer away so the truck proved handy, the second farm has also been in the family for over a hundred years so we consider it as one farm. I did a lot of driving in the fields with it, I think that is what gave me the confidence to get my license.
The truck never gave him trouble and he drove it until he died. I drove it for years after as well. The body is still in good shape, it stopped running two years ago and it's my fault mostly, I let it get run down beyond the point of return. A young guy I know, stopped in and asked if he could buy it for parts as he has the same truck. I felt this was the easiest way to part with it as I have no use for it anymore and also I have had many people asking for it which has become annoying.
I cleaned out the truck of the few things still in it. The stack of tapes were still in the glove compartment, waiting to be played, there were two pens that still worked unbelievably, some small screw drivers and notes that Dad kept, "#of bales from field 6, parts needed for etc etc, call Mr so and so", the usual reminders. Never would he think while scribbling the notes down, I would be reading them nine years after his death. I kept the truck all these years and I didn't realize why until after I sold it Friday. I felt another part of my memories of Dad and happier times, were being taken away again, I felt loss again but it had nothing to do with the actual truck, just the memories that it represented. Goodbye old truck, you served your purpose well.