So, I have this truck. It’s old and I’ve only had it for a year, but I’ve come to love it. It’s been though the toughest year of my life with me and given me some of my greatest joys in the midst of it. I’ve filled it with people I love, travelled across country with my son, looked at the stars lying in the bed, moved, and generally looked real manly. I feel like myself when I’m behind the wheel.
As I said, it’s old. The paint is chipping, the body is dented and scratched, only a few seat belts work, and the celling liner is falling in - held up by buttons that have pictures of things like marilyn monroe, willie nelson, and a crowbar (a series of crows at a bar). These were things true before I got the truck (well, beside the buttons. That was my idea)
Since I’ve had it, it has endured much more abuse. He’s been broken into twice, having his back window busted out and his CD player ripped from his dashboard. As a result, he has had to endure the rain coming in and his cab filled with leaves. Though that was great fun for the boys as leaves were flying about the cab like we were heading to Oz. He went from a driveway to living on the street but served me well every step of the way.
This past week he had to get towed from Westchester because of a seized water pump. $400 later I also learned that the whole front end needs to be rebuilt. $2,000 worth of work for a 13 year old truck. Everyone says the same thing…it’s time to sell.
Friends have been researching new trucks for me. Some are really cool. There are even some great red ones - my youngest has asked for a red one.
I understand the logic. It might cost me more in the long run to do the work on my truck. He began his relationship with me much more fresh than he is now. I struggle with feeling a bit like an jinx…like maybe he was better off before he met me. He has suffered a lot of abuse this past year - so have I. I could end my relationship with him now, cut my losses, celebrate the good times, and move on. He has been broken. Truth is he could kill me. If I don’t take care of him now, the damage done to him will cost me. I will be stranded or in a ditch or worse.
But this is my truck. I don’t want to give up on him. It would take time and yes, I could still end up getting hurt.
I tend to do that.
I know, it’s a truck. Everyone tells me it’s a truck. It’s a tool. But he reminds me of me. I’m also a little worse for the wear. I feel like my truck. I feel like I’ve been broken into and have given more than my design. My body and spirit are showing the signs of the miles. I’m in need of a little attention. Some have already given up. In some ways I’m not the man I once was - but I think given some time and a little work, I can stay on the road and go a lot more miles. Put the right parts in me and I could even be better with age.
I’ve always believed love doesn’t give up or turn it’s back. Love invests. Love knows it could end up getting hurt in the end - but considers it worth the risk. After all, we aren’t just tools.
Love showed me something else this week. Sometimes a soul just needs to finish its journey. When my headlights went out a friend said - “Maybe your truck is trying to tell you something. He’s tired. He want’s to rest”.
I need to let him go. I will sell him and I will take the money and invest in the next truck. In this he will give me one final act of service. He doesn’t want to hurt me or my loved ones. If I keep pushing him he will. I need to celebrate what he has given me and move on. I can never pay him back.
Really, I guess thats love. He gave to me and the people I love and didn’t ask for a single thing. Giving more will hurt him….and me.
Goodbye, friend. You have been a faithful companion. Rest…and I’ll pray you are recycled into something beautiful.
