What is one thing that would symbolize you- your qualities, your spirit, your personality? Can you think of one? I can’t.
My mom wrote a post on Facebook that I’m going to repost here, but I think she put it so simply. Ol’Blue was everything that Dad was…
Available. Helpful. Strong. Old-Fashion, a “Good Ol’ Boy!”
No wonder Dad loved that truck. It wasn’t a looker. It didn’t have air conditioning or a side view mirror. But it had a radio that picked up the Cubs games, and the space to help his friends out when they needed it. Simple and Helpful. That was Ol’Blue- That was Dad!
In the words of my Mom:
GOODBYE OL’ BLUE The last couple of days I’ve felt pretty blue and weepy. I’ve obviously been stressed and probably not sleeping enough and today I feel like I’m coming down with a cold. It dawned on me this afternoon that all this sorrow has fallen on me this week because I need to get rid of Steve’s truck. Why in the world would I care about a truck – I don’t – I think it’s just another piece of him that I have to say good-bye to and it’s bringing up all these feelings again. Several years ago, back when Steve and Dano were coaching together at Iowa State, they talked about how sometimes you just “need a truck”….so they bought a blue 1986 Ford F-150 with 3 on the column. It worked hard over the last decade or so hauling this and that. And you wouldn’t believe how many friends borrowed that truck because some days you just “need a truck”. Steve bought out Dan’s interest in the truck a few years ago ( I’m sure Dano could afford to buy a lunch or two off that windfall). That truck was hard to start, had a bad carburetor and a few other ailments. Steve could still start that thing though – he had a trick with a hammer and a screwdriver in the carburetor and off he went. I was going to sell ol’ blue – but we couldn’t get it started (thanks Randy for trying). So I called my “car guy”, Darwin Trickle and he told me today that it just isn’t worth the trouble. So…..I’m sending Ol’ Blue to the salvage yard. It’s just a hunk of metal, but it sure was a good ol’ truck. If any of you saw the Steve Martin movie “Father of the Bride”, you’ll remember the scene when Steve Martin’s character lost control in the grocery store because the hot dog package had a different amount of hot dogs than the package of buns. Steve Martin wasn’t angry about the hot dogs, he was angry because he lost control of the wedding planning. That’s how I feel this week – that I’ve lost control of my life and for every piece of Steve I have to put away, all that grief rears it’s ugly head, again and again. Time may heal wounds, but the scars remain.
Thanks for sharing, Mom. You inspire me!