Everyone comes to a time in their life when they have to let go of something. That time has come for me. I bought my truck not long before I turned 16. A little over three years later and I’ve bought a new car and can’t afford to keep two (space- or money-wise). I loved my truck. It took me everywhere: to the mountains, to the beach, to town, to New York. All that and back again. Sure, it had trouble sometimes. It left for New York on borrowed time; Dad wasn’t finished working on some things when it came time for me to leave. It didn’t make it home that time. The alternator died.
That was about the last of what I could take trying to fix it up to run (and only run). So as I looked for a new job and a new house, I started my search for a new car. Not long after I found my house, Dad and I were driving around looking at cars when we found my new car. Sure, I miss going over bumps in the road faster than everyone else (I still go faster than most people) and I hate being shorter than everyone else, but it sure is nice to be faster than most (except one certain Prius).