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Broken, but priceless
Some say that heirlooms are priceless, which I can agree with. People generally mean stuff like jewelry or pictures, or other things of the like. However, in my case, its it's something a little bit different. It's something that even though has it's issues, I would never get rid of it at all.
The item I am talking about is a white Chevy pickup truck. It used to belong to an old friend of mine who passed away years ago, and this was one of the only things I was able to save of him. It's old, it's beat to hell and back, but it has a story under the chipped paint and surface rust.
It started its life after rolling off the line in Fort Wayne, Indiana as a farm truck, in which it spent a good amount of its it's time on a farm in Valmeyer, Illinois. After the owner replaced it with a newer 2007 model, it was sold to a man in Arkansas who ran his business out of it. One night the man turned his truck off and went inside as he usually did. Unfortunately, it was the last time he did, as he suffered a heart attack that very night. The truck sat and watched its owner wheeled off into an ambulance, never to return home again.
Afterward the truck sat for years, never got picked by any of the mans few remaining family members, and has been left behind, slowly decaying with the property in which it laid. Until an old friend drove by and took a look at it.
He rescued it from its decaying habitat and took it home, and soon began restoring it to the glory it once held. He completely rebuilt the motor, transmission, anything on the drivetrain and powertrain.
He was proud of what he had brought back to life. It was seemingly his magnum opus, his testament that anything can be saved.
Unfortunately one night, he couldn't escape himself and took his own life, and his truck sat for awhile more. Then I picked it up.
This friend was very close to me, and I know he'd want me to carry the torch further, and I'll make sure I do a damn good job of it. The truck was beginning to suffer numerous issues at this point, but I didn't scrap it.
At this point in time, I had the truck for a while now. Relationships were born and died in this truck, habits escaped in this truck, memories were made in this truck.
I have a lot of family heirlooms in my possession, but this truck is an item that is so sentimental to me, that I refuse to get rid of it. It was at the hands of a few people before this, and I'll make sure it lives well after I die. I know it may sound weird writing something about a truck, but it's a truck with one hell of a story to tell.
The item I am talking about is a white Chevy pickup truck. It used to belong to an old friend of mine who passed away years ago, and this was one of the only things I was able to save of him. It's old, it's beat to hell and back, but it has a story under the chipped paint and surface rust.
It started its life after rolling off the line in Fort Wayne, Indiana as a farm truck, in which it spent a good amount of its it's time on a farm in Valmeyer, Illinois. After the owner replaced it with a newer 2007 model, it was sold to a man in Arkansas who ran his business out of it. One night the man turned his truck off and went inside as he usually did. Unfortunately, it was the last time he did, as he suffered a heart attack that very night. The truck sat and watched its owner wheeled off into an ambulance, never to return home again.
Afterward the truck sat for years, never got picked by any of the mans few remaining family members, and has been left behind, slowly decaying with the property in which it laid. Until an old friend drove by and took a look at it.
He rescued it from its decaying habitat and took it home, and soon began restoring it to the glory it once held. He completely rebuilt the motor, transmission, anything on the drivetrain and powertrain.
He was proud of what he had brought back to life. It was seemingly his magnum opus, his testament that anything can be saved.
Unfortunately one night, he couldn't escape himself and took his own life, and his truck sat for awhile more. Then I picked it up.
This friend was very close to me, and I know he'd want me to carry the torch further, and I'll make sure I do a damn good job of it. The truck was beginning to suffer numerous issues at this point, but I didn't scrap it.
At this point in time, I had the truck for a while now. Relationships were born and died in this truck, habits escaped in this truck, memories were made in this truck.
I have a lot of family heirlooms in my possession, but this truck is an item that is so sentimental to me, that I refuse to get rid of it. It was at the hands of a few people before this, and I'll make sure it lives well after I die. I know it may sound weird writing something about a truck, but it's a truck with one hell of a story to tell.
