I was home from England for 13 hours when my faithful truck, Early, breathed his last bit of misted 87 octane unleaded gas. We were driving together to check out an advert for tools on Craigslist in Belleview, WA when his little transmission gave out on him after 278,482 miles. A rebuilt one, if I put it in myself, was $1200 and I decided it was time to let him go.

Early wasn’t pretty. He was dark green and rust, had a flat bed with wooden sides, and an interior only a mother could love. More than once people thought I had arrived somewhere to mow their lawn or haul away their junk. No one would park beside him in parking lots and when he and I changed lanes on the freeway, people got the hell out of our way.

Instead of being shinny, he was useful and I can give no higher praise to a truck than that. He moved us and everything we owned from our old house to our new one, always started the first time, hauled trees and crap to the dump countless times, took me to work when Stamps-With-Foot and I couldn’t carpool, served as a loaner when friends were in town, hauled lumber, gear, bikes, furniture, appliances, dirt, and most recently he delivered 1.5 tons of gravel for our hot tub base, though it did take him 5 trips…

I hope he can be as useful in death as he was when running. Maybe his steel bed, frame, and engine will be melted down and made into a bridge, a ship, or a building. Goodbye trusty old friend. Thank you.