It has been a sad evening.
I sold my 1994 Ford Ranger, 11 years to the day of when I bought it. I haven't driven it much in the last few years due to the fact that I have a company car, I guess now the golden hand cuffs are one notch tighter.
She was a great truck, 106,000 miles on it during its 11 year life, only left me stranded once with a blown freeze plug.
She didn't seem to mind not being driven much, always seemed to start after sitting idle for a few months.
Cleaning her out was like looking through an old photo album; business cards from my old job, hat pin from my trip to Scotland, trout hat pin that a friends niece made me, fuzzbuster that "The Wife" gave me in 1987, cassette tapes (remember those?),
and a necktie circa 1996 (maybe I'll wear it to the office in the morning).
I almost shed a tear as I watched her tail-lights disappear down the street.
I wonder how many bail of straw you can fit in a Sebring?
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