Bunker Mulligan "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." ~Mark Twain

Ten years ago I had a Nissan 4X4 pickup which had survived many snowstorms and treks into the Front Range of Colorado. What it didn’t survive was a Friday night drink-fest for a young Birdie, who rolled it on a Missouri country road. Totaled. It was a great truck.

At the time I was working as a CNC press-break operator in an air conditioner factory, and money was tight. The truck was paid for, and I really didn’t want payments again at the time. Poor Birdie. He has a felt Stetson he was very proud of, and Dad threatened to throw it on the ground and stomp on it in retribution. I didn’t.

I looked at replacement Nissans, and even those without 4WD were too expensive. I got an S-10.

I’ve had this truck for ten years now, and it has been a great truck. And I’ve used it as a truck, not a sedan with a different shape. I put 50K miles on it the first year going to see every football game of Slice’s senior year in college. Dad was in the stands no matter where he played. It hauld ten loads of broken up concrete from an old patio in Dallas. It hauled furniture all over the country. I used it to haul over two tons of stone for my retaining wall around the pool here. It carried all kinds of building materials and trash when I refurbished my baseball field in Tyler. I used it to lug the broken-down old mower I used on that field. It deserves retirement.

Last night I drove by the Nissan dealer and looked at their trucks. Funny, they are the same price as they were ten years ago. And they’re nice. My wife is insistent that I need a new one. She says she feels violated any time she rides in my truck, and these are clean. So, this afternoon I’ll swing by and see if that blue one is available.

It’s an emotional thing. I love my truck. We’ve been through a lot together–135,000 miles, ten states, and tons of stuff worth of togetherness. It will be hard to let go.

Maybe Birdie should pick up the payments.