Wednesday, February 7, 2018

A Truck to Build a Dream On

When I first met my husband, it was the thing of modern day one night stands. We both swiped right on Tinder. We had both been burned (pun intended) by the app before and I was losing my patience. I told him that if he liked me from our talks that I didn't want him actually really using the app that we met on again until we met. I wanted some exclusivity, not to be controlling but to avoid games. Rather than being scared off, he was down with this and so I waited in my apartment and watched him drive by the little building, up the road, then according to his story he got stuck, and finally he arrived. After a brief bite from my dog and some unwrapping of many gifts he brought me, we headed out to dinner at a lovely pub two towns over. 

I don't think I will ever forget (at least I hope not) what it felt like to step up on his side bar and climb into the F250 work truck he had. I could tell when I got in that he had cleaned it up for me and the thought of him being nervous and wanting to impress me felt good for some reason. I felt small in the seat of the truck. It smelled like oil and chocolate and summertime even though it was February. We made small talk, had a lovely first date, filled with things I may share one day and things that are all for me and my honey to own in our memories forever. I can remember what he was wearing and what I was wearing and how tiny and safe my hand felt when he reached for it with his warm, rough hand. And I wont forget what it felt like when he gave me a gentle kiss with his soft lips and I knew I would love him forever. 

As we were courting we took his truck all over and I even nicknamed it Whitey Ford (from a reference to an Everlast album in the 90s, I am not even sure if that is a real person). I remember snuggling up and falling asleep in the front seat on our first few late night dates to concerts and all day hikes. I remember putting my feet up on the dashboard and feeling like home was in that truck because I was with him. And here we are 3 years from our first date and our good ole F250 has turned over for the last time. Destined to bring to life another truck (we sold it for parts) Whitey Ford won't soon sing the blues.

Goodbye, the white horse that carried my knight to me for the first time. You really were a truck to build a dream on. And that we did.  

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