You my boy, Blue
June 4, 2008
I’m a little late in announcing this, but as you can imagine, it’s been a little stressful: My Ford Ranger of 8 years died a grisly death Sunday afternoon on the side of U.S. 1 in Raleigh. Not grisly in the sense of a wreck or anything like that, but grisly in the sense that the poor girl’s insides just boiled away, leaving her incapable of running any further.
I got the then brand-new pickup in May of 2000, during my second year of college. Despite some recent worry about gas inefficiency in these crazy times, I think the truck served me well. I drove it twice all the way to Canada and back (with stops in Indianapolis both times), as well as trips to Richmond, Washington, D.C., and even New Jersey. And there were countless jaunts to Wilmington, Greenville, and other closer locations. 130,000 miles in all. The truck holds a lot of memories for me.
So while part of me is excited to be getting something new that will get me around for less money, it’s always hard to part with something that you’ve owned for that long. Thanks for the memories!
I feel you. My grey Ford Ranger — a non-air conditioned beast with a horrible paint job we named “Cobalt” — died after college after serving me for six years. I bought her with 60,000 miles and put another 120,000 on her before she died of oldness.
I miss her. I don’t miss my back sticking to the seats on hot summer days in Texas. But I miss her.