My dad bought this truck in 2004. It quickly became mine, though never officially. It was never given to me, but I started driving it everywhere and it seemed to fit. I named the truck Wilson.
We had great times. Wandering aimlessly, wandering purposefully. I camped out in the bed of the truck, I got cozy in the cab. I’ve laid on the cap gazing at the stars. I knew this truck very well.
It was sad to see it go, but it’s been equally sad to see it sitting for so long without use. That truck deserves to be used. He had reached a point in his life where rust and age caught up to him, and I couldn’t sink required funds into a vehicle I knew would only get worse.
He went out on the front lawn on Sunday afternoon, and was gone by Sunday evening. $500 is a fair price for a vehicle requiring as much work as he does. I only have fond memories of Wilson, and I’m sure he’ll never be forgotten. I knew him well.