I'm trying to eulogize my truck. I keep coming up with more negative memories than positive ones.
The truck got terrible gas mileage. She had dents and scratches and did not look slick. Her unquenchable desire for constant repair is the closest thing to perpetual motion that the field of science has ever witnessed.
Uncle Jim had her on his lift in the beginning. I remember he shook his head sadly because I had not brought her to his garage within the limits of the lemon laws. I had bought my ticket and was forced to take the ride. Blown bulbs, snapped cables and leaky seals. She demanded constant attention and I obeyed.
Uncle Dennis offered consistent assistance and hours of research before every job I asked of him. Justin drove down from Haverhill to help on multiple occasions. Uncle Joe fashioned a running board out of the discarded ladder from an old boat. My cousin Pistol Pete at the parts store was on speed dial for automotive advice.
Uncle Jim had her on his lift in the beginning. I remember he shook his head sadly because I had not brought her to his garage within the limits of the lemon laws. I had bought my ticket and was forced to take the ride. Blown bulbs, snapped cables and leaky seals. She demanded constant attention and I obeyed.
Uncle Dennis offered consistent assistance and hours of research before every job I asked of him. Justin drove down from Haverhill to help on multiple occasions. Uncle Joe fashioned a running board out of the discarded ladder from an old boat. My cousin Pistol Pete at the parts store was on speed dial for automotive advice.
My grandfather looked under the hood and made me promise not to tell Gram that he had been working. My grandfather's buddy John got up on the ladder to check the seals while the truck was on the lift. While up on the ladder and clutching my leaky transmission John argued with my grandfather in a way that was gentle and displayed respect.
Their honest conclusion was to run away. To make her someone else's problem.
Their honest conclusion was to run away. To make her someone else's problem.
I drove the 2001 Ford Escape to death. She was leaking transmission fluid when I traded her in. Maybe I should have traded her in sooner. Maybe I should have never bought her at all. She never repaid my unity and friendship. She barely held up her end of the deal.
I cling to the silver lining that she was a catalyst to spend time with a large circle of family and friends. In her absence I can honor those relationships and spend time with the aforementioned wonderful people under circumstances more enjoyable than car repair.
