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You were my husband’s first semi-permanent truck.


You were one of the dreaded “black fleet” meant for the newer drivers.

You had seen better days by the time Eric got to know you.

He worked hard to clean you up and make you look respectable again.


For a while, you were well-cared for.

You often struggled with pulling heavier loads.


The engine replacement they gave you was too weak for what you were asked to do.

The ride you gave was a very rough one.

You smelled of diesel fuel and so did everyone that drove you or rode in you.

You became someone else’s truck when Eric gained some seniority.

You saw many drivers over the course of your life.

I heard yesterday that they had retired you.

I found out when I saw your hood piece go by on someone else’s truck.

Now you are just parts to be salvaged to keep other trucks going.

Goodbye, 227.