I tend to be unreasonably sentimental about inanimate objects. Not everything, but some things. My mind molds them into symbols. For me, the truck was a powerful symbol of Steve's and my relationship. The truck was the first vehicle we bought together, that was truly ours, not solely Steve's or mine. The truck moved us out of the Santa Cruz mountains, pulling a little trailer with all our worldly possessions. It hauled lumber, dirt and supplies to rebuild our beloved house. It transported us to every important event in our life for the past seven years.
Steve and I with our truck right after buying it from brother-in-law Richard in May 2007:
We babied it. We added tinting, a rolling bed cover, spray-in bed liner, upgraded the sound system and added a tow hitch. As a thank you gift for my efforts to help my grandparents in their final years, my dad installed cruise control. The truck was finally perfect. Exactly one week after said cruise control installation, after being able to use that wonderful new feature only a few times, the truck was totaled.
After a frank conversation with the body shop, I finally conceded today that the truck is beyond repair. It will be hauled away to salvage for parts today or tomorrow.
State Farm treated us well throughout this process and gave us a very fair amount of cash for our little truck. Steve and I are now shopping for our new vehicle. There are so many decisions to make... new vs. used, truck vs. small SUV vs. crossover-type-thing, make and model. It makes my head spin. So far I don't love anything I've seen. I didn't want a new car; I wanted our truck back. I suppose I can only throw a fit about it for so long... we'll have to settle on something eventually.
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