Posted November 19, 2005 at 7:53 pm
I was on my to Kinko's this afternoon when the usual roaring of my black 1986 Dodge Ram50 burst into a cacophony of metal clanks, as if one were twirling an axe through the undercarriage of my truck. The gas pedal was suddenly useless, so I coasted to a stop just past the corner of Kenny and Ackerman.
My drive shaft had snapped and was dragging on the asphalt.
My roommate, a helpful stranger, and I pushed it into an empty parking lot next to a nearby church. I called my dad, and he confirmed for me that the repairs would be far, far beyond what one should invest in this truck. There is no more truck. Kup is gone.
It's still sitting there. I gotta get it junked or something. It's probably in too bad a shape to be worth anything to anybody. I took out my 1998 Godzilla cupholder from Taco Bell, my "Your Mom" air freshener, and what I had brought with me.
The truck used to belong to my grandfather. He got it second-hand from somebody else, and neither of them drove it much. When I got it from my dad in 1999, it still was under 50 thousand miles, despite being 15 years old. I named it "Kup," after the old geezer Transformer pick-up truck character from the movie, which came out in 1986. The truck's mileage is pushing 100,000 now. It's loud and smelly. I remember when Graham and I drove to Wizard World Chicago a few years ago, and ended up pulling over in Dayton to yank the remnants of the exhaust system out. It had rusted and was dragging. I kept the pieces in the bed, like I do everything that breaks off the truck. The piece of wood(!) that fell out of the running boards, the spare tire that can't be stowed away underneath where it's supposed to, pieces of the bumper that chipped off when I hit the snow-covered guardrail on Christmas Eve...
I almost feel like I should disassemble everything that composes the truck and put it in the bed now.
I gave Walky the truck too. It probably showed up more times than the dog. It's particularly sad for me, because I'm redrawing the first storyline -- and the truck shows up in the next two installments. I'll be drawing it post-mortem. Perhaps it won't be entirely sad, but a happy thing. Therapeutic, like saying a goodbye to an old friend.
I dunno what I'm going to do. Steve-o graciously gave me his spare key to his car in case I needed it. But whether I decide to replace Kup depends largely on what I want to do with my life, and where.
I just didn't think I'd have to decide today.
My drive shaft had snapped and was dragging on the asphalt.
My roommate, a helpful stranger, and I pushed it into an empty parking lot next to a nearby church. I called my dad, and he confirmed for me that the repairs would be far, far beyond what one should invest in this truck. There is no more truck. Kup is gone.
It's still sitting there. I gotta get it junked or something. It's probably in too bad a shape to be worth anything to anybody. I took out my 1998 Godzilla cupholder from Taco Bell, my "Your Mom" air freshener, and what I had brought with me.
The truck used to belong to my grandfather. He got it second-hand from somebody else, and neither of them drove it much. When I got it from my dad in 1999, it still was under 50 thousand miles, despite being 15 years old. I named it "Kup," after the old geezer Transformer pick-up truck character from the movie, which came out in 1986. The truck's mileage is pushing 100,000 now. It's loud and smelly. I remember when Graham and I drove to Wizard World Chicago a few years ago, and ended up pulling over in Dayton to yank the remnants of the exhaust system out. It had rusted and was dragging. I kept the pieces in the bed, like I do everything that breaks off the truck. The piece of wood(!) that fell out of the running boards, the spare tire that can't be stowed away underneath where it's supposed to, pieces of the bumper that chipped off when I hit the snow-covered guardrail on Christmas Eve...
I almost feel like I should disassemble everything that composes the truck and put it in the bed now.
I gave Walky the truck too. It probably showed up more times than the dog. It's particularly sad for me, because I'm redrawing the first storyline -- and the truck shows up in the next two installments. I'll be drawing it post-mortem. Perhaps it won't be entirely sad, but a happy thing. Therapeutic, like saying a goodbye to an old friend.
I dunno what I'm going to do. Steve-o graciously gave me his spare key to his car in case I needed it. But whether I decide to replace Kup depends largely on what I want to do with my life, and where.
I just didn't think I'd have to decide today.
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