“Farewell Good Friend”
If you are reading this it means I am gone. We have known each other for about thirteen years, but it sure
seemed like an eternity. After all of
the years we have spent together all that is going to be left is your memories
of me. I hope your memories for me are
as good as mine for you. We have done a
lot together, everything from fishing to you taking care of me when I was sick
and injured. I do not want you to be
sad, but instead remember all of the good times we had together. Both you and I know we have shared a lot of
memories together.
I remember when your Uncle
Barry introduced you and me to each other.
It was sometime in 1988, I believe.
If I remember correctly we drove to the pond where your uncle and you
went fishing, while I just sat on the side of the road doing nothing. It was that day in which you caught your
first fish, it was pretty small, but then again so were you. You had a smile from cheek to cheek. It was at that moment that I knew we were
going to be the best of friends. That
definitely was not the last time we would go fishing together.
I watched the two of you
catch fish together for a number of years, and during all of which I had to sit
on the side of the road and bask in the sun.
That was okay with me though. I
always loved watching you walk up from the lake, pond or wherever you had
chosen to fish. Though I could not join
you, seeing you happy was plenty for me.
One of my fondest memories of you is one that I share with your Uncle
Barry.
I cannot remember the year
exactly, but I think that it was 1988 or 1989 because you were still quite
young. Barry, your father, you, and I
had all gone four wheeling. Unfortunately,
you had to sit in the small seat behind your father. I felt kind of bad for you because it is a really crappy seat to
sit in, especially while four wheeling.
I remember when we started going up this hill and we were tilting to the
right, you were probably about one to two feet from the ground. I heard what I thought was you laughing, so
I kept driving fast and furiously, later to find out that you were crying.
You were not just crying,
you were balling your eyes out. I guess
that was kind of expected since you had never been four wheeling before. You probably thought we were going to tip
and that you were going to get crushed.
But I would never let that happen to you. I let it go - but I know that to this day Barry still loves to
tell that story, just to embarrass you.
Hey, you have to admit, it is a pretty funny story. Another thing that I loved doing was driving
on the highway.
No matter where we were
going Barry would drive like it was one big race and he had to be first. Lucky for him I was pretty fast. I remember the time we made it from Southie to
your house in fifteen minutes when normally it would have taken about a
half-hour to forty-five minutes. Talk
about fast. That was one of the last
times the three of us drove together.
During the summer of 1997, I
became quite sick and Barry decided to move on. He decided to buy a 1998 black Ford Ranger, the same ethnicity
and color as me, except newer. Your
uncle did always like them young. I had
to wait for two years in his driveway until you finally were able to pay for my
operation and get me out of there. The
young Ranger was kind of cute and I always got to stare at his rear end. I know the reason that you did not adopt me
right away was because the operation cost $1000, so I forgave you. But I will not forgive you for not picking
me up until after your graduation day.
One night your Uncle Barry
decided to abuse me, by tattooing me.
He came out with white spray paint and white crayons. First he put a tattoo on the driver side
saying, “Go to UMASS OR BUST,” I did not mind so much because he did it so that
every time you opened the door it would say, “ASS OR BUST.” He he.
But then he put a big “99” on the hood and on the passenger side saying,
“Class of 1999.” I did not want either
of those on me. I was not the class of
1999. To top it off he writes all over
my forehead with white crayons. After
the incident, I waited desperately for you to rescue me.
It was about a week after
your graduation when you finally got me for good. I will never forget the first stop we made. I believe it was a Sunoco or a Shell
station, which ever it was you gave me the good stuff; it tasted so good. To think I had been sober for about two
years. Unlike most, I was good at
holding in my gas because I had two tanks to hold it in.
Speaking of having two gas
tanks, it was a really good thing especially for our first long trip
together. You took me up to Bridgeton,
Maine. That is where you worked for the
summer. I did not like the fact that I
had to do all of the maintenance crap because the actual maintainers took the
winter off. Thanks to them about five
days into camp, I broke my spine (my yolk snapped). It took almost the whole summer for you to get the yolk, and
thank G-d you did. I hated sitting
around watching all of the other cars drive when I could not. Finally, you got the part and Rick who was
the new maintenance guy, and you fixed me up.
Boy, it was a good thing he showed you how to do it, because we both
know that that was not the last time you had to. Shortly after, you covered up my bad tattoos and we headed back
to your home at the end of the summer.
You were awesome to me that
night before you had to go to U-Mass for the first time. I got sick and you found out my alternator
was busted. Without hesitating you
bought the part and fixed me up. To
think, you did it without having ever done it before.
I am real sorry about the
next time I got sick. I believe it was
on the way to your friend Wyley’s house in Yarmouth, Maine a couple days before
you had to go to camp. It was at night,
and I know your were sad that I had gotten sick again, but it was not my fault,
I had a bug, which caused my transfer case to break. That hurt so much. I know
how it took you eight hours the next day to fix, but I was so happy you did
that because afterwards, I felt like new.
After that I did not get sick for a long time.
Unfortunately, the next time
I got sick was in February 2001. I had
a feeling that this was going to be it for me.
I waited in the parking lot near your house for nearly a month before
you brought me to see a doctor. It was
then that they diagnosed me and told you that I was going to die. When I heard the news I was so sad, as I
know you were. The next day you showed
up and began to empty me out. It was so
hard for me watching you cry knowing that there was nothing that could be
done.
When I saw the tow truck
come, I began to cry also. I knew my
time was up and he was the grim reaper coming to get me. It was very hard for me to watch you cry as
you drove behind me on the way to the bone yard where I was going to be laid to
rest. I never knew how much I meant to
you until that moment.
As soon as we got to the
bone yard, you had my steering wheel taken out. My guess is that it was to remember me by - I was very honored by
this. I know that none of the other
owners of the cars and trucks in the bone yard cared for the vehicles as much
as you because they all had their steering wheels. I also know that when you are asked the question that we once
heard on the radio, “What was better, your first truck or the first girl you
lost your virginity too?” it is the girl right? Just kidding. I know that
it is me. Your exact words would probably
be, “My 1998 black Ford Ranger xlt super cab.”
Or at least that is what I think you would say.
The guy here is about to put
me to sleep and I will soon be in truck heaven. Below is a picture of me to go along with the steering wheel for
you to remember me by. This is hard for
me to say, but FAREWELL GOOD FRIEND.
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