It’s just a truck.
Often throughout the week I will instruct Aidan on discipline and what it is. I try to explain to my little guy that being disciplined is doing what you need to do when you don’t want to do it.
Dignity on the other hand is keeping a handle on your emotions while you are exercising discipline.
I think today I only displayed one of those character traits, for I cried as Joel pulled our truck out of the driveway for the last time.
It’s been coming for a few months now; getting rid of the truck. This has definitely been our annus horribilis financially speaking. We’re not loosing bids cause we’re not even writing them. Pretty incredible. (Do I get a bailout???)
Anyways, we’re trimming any fat we can find in this lean, mean household and sadly our beautiful black Silverado was that fat the
was the easiest to grab and slash with a machete. Oh, and that is what it felt like.
After hours spent on Craigslist, insulting offers from CarMax and dealing with slimy, slimy, used auto sales managers we finally were offered something we could stomach…kind of. That was last night and so we drove home from the dealership as
a family contemplating the offer, during a beautiful sunset against the rows of corn and power lines. That fun new “cover” of Sweet Home Alabama by Kid Rock came over the country radio station and to break the depressing silence I turned it up loud and Joel, Aidan and I rocked out one more time in our truck (Amélie was along for the ride). Tears blurred my eyes as we sang, “Singing Sweet Home Alabama all summer long!” Aidan was bobbin his head and bitin’ down on his bottom lip as he grooved to lyrics he should not be listening to! It was one of those moments – a special, painful snapshot that won’t quickly be forgotten.
I’ll never forget the sound of my Grandpas combine starting up that one last time on the morning of the farm auction and I’ll never forget the sound of our truck as Joel turned the key this morning before pulling out of our driveway.
I know it was the right thing to do. If there is or is not a depression on the horizon it does not matter – we had to do it after a year like this. We are all healthy, we have each other, “It’s just a truck” I told Aidan (and myself over and over again) – I am trying not to think of how I will Garden without it or how we will camp or really enjoy those Sunday rides out in the country…
Joel promised we will get another one someday. We’ll pay cash and it will be a blessing to our family instead of a guilty burden. I am sure any minute now I will feel a surge of empowerment, that feeling you get when you have behaved in a disciplined manner. But then again maybe not, cause the phone just rang, it was Joel. It’s a done deal and he is on his way home in an “old” Jeep Cherokee. So of course, I am crying again.
I think I fool myself into thinking I am not materialistic because I don’t really care for new things. That somehow loving my old crusty house, my old junk and wonderfully ratty furniture that somehow not having any new shoes in the last 2 years makes me righteous or something. I could give a rats ass about cars, surround sound and plasma T.V.’s but big Black Silverado’s make me swoon.
My good man reminded me not to be attached to earthly possessions, that all this shall fade away. Some things sooner than others I guess.
Say it with me, “Its just a truck.”