old blue

Ever had to leave your car with a repair shop or garage for a few days? Even though the temporary replacement is nice enough, there's a special feeling of ownership, maybe even kinship, when you slide back into the driver's seat of your old familiar traveling companion and clutch the wheel that's yours again. It's like having an old friend back from a long trip. It just feels good.

Say you've never gotten that attached to a motor and wheels? OK. No big deal. But I have, and I like the feeling I get when I put my own tush on my own upholstery. The new stuff is nice. The familiar stuff is comforting.

For a good part of my adult life I've been getting around in a blue 1993 Ford Ranger 4x4 pickup truck. It's been a reliable and favorite way of mine to get from here to there for years now. From time to time I'd opt for a more comfortable ride and park it, thinking I'll keep it just in case I need to haul a load of something around. I've even given a little thought to trading it in for something newer, more stylish and less embarrassing. But the thoughts of looking out the window and not being able to see my faithful little ride sorta makes me sad. We've been through a lot, me and that old truck.

When life went crazy for me back in 2001 Old Blue and I would often set out to just ride around and go no where in particular. We weren't sure where we'd end up. Sometimes we'd find ourselves in the middle of nothing but wide open space. I'd just shut her down and let her rest while we listened to nature's noise and the little pops and pings from under her hood.

I can't tell you the times I've closed up the windows and spilled my anger to the poor girl. She had to be relieved when I'd roll 'em back down and scream at the wind. Old Blue has been a friend indeed. She's witnessed the birth of so many of my songs, was the first to hear the good ones and the only one to hear the rest. She's listened in on private phone conversations, endured long traveling show rehearsals, bad jokes and all, and accepted with grace her role as catcher of splattered ketchup, stale fries and my favorite peanut M&Ms. She knows more about me than anyone I can think of, some stuff too embarrassing to mention. If she wanted to take me down she could. I've always trusted her though, especially when she's carried Casie and Christian, the most precious cargo in the world.

I've pushed her too. But she never, ever let me down. When the snow was falling and others were sitting still, Blue and I were still moving. As much as I'm sure she wanted to protest, she always got me where I needed to be and back. Even on those long cross country singing trips. No doubt the bigger, newer, prettier and more modern machines had to wonder how an old gal like this could keep up, especially after all those miles. She did it though like a trooper.

Several years ago I went to school to pick up my daughter. She'd been learning to write her name and decided to surprise me with her autograph. You have to squint to see it now, but just on the inside of the passenger door is the faded signature of a grade school kid who scribbled "Casie" as best she could strapped to a seat in stop-and-go traffic. Just to the right of it is a nick and a crack in the vinyl door covering. That's where her pre-school brother banged out a permanent place in the old truck's history with his new plastic hammer that wasn't supposed to have the wherewithal to do that sort of damage. Little personality marks and tributes to trips small and large make this great old ride more of a friend than anything else. And she never complained.

I've been spending a lot of time on the road these last few weeks. A trip to southern Illinois this past Sunday night, then what was supposed to be a quick drive down to east Tennessee yesterday have added more miles and a little unexpected drama to mine and Old Blue's relationship. I hate to say it, but I'm afraid I may have enjoyed my last adventure with my four-wheeled mistress.

It's not like she hasn't seen this sort of terrain before. I kept her on the main roads, and didn't push her too hard, but evidently this time around it was more than she could take. About half way up one of east Tennessee's beautiful, but steep mountain roads she gave a final grunt and slipped into perpetual neutral. Me being the selfish human in this relationship, I was most concerned with getting myself, and her I guess, out of other people's way. I was grateful when a handful of the locals jumped in behind her and pushed us on up the hill to a wide spot on the edge of the road.

I've spent the last several days mulling my choices. Truthfully, I really don't have any. Just to get her towed back home would cost nearly a thousand dollars. A new transmission will get her moving, but again I have to consider the cost. So, right now she's sitting at a friend's place in east Tennessee waiting for me to let her go. I've had a few inquiries on Craig's List. It doesn't seem an appropriate way to end a relationship, but today's climate leaves me little choice. I have pictures. I will always remember. I hope the person who drives her next will treat her with the dignity and respect she deserves. I'll miss my Old Blue.