the old girl

 

the green ford pick-up owed him nothing

in truck years it was far older than he

tires worn, bed rusted, tailgate knocking

he muttered complaints settling on the

worn bench seat tuning in only a.m. radio

hundreds of miles delivering his services to

those who’d pay for freshly painted homes

several new mufflers and brakes over the years

always costing him more but the engine was sound

she never let him down come inspection

still with metal bumpers and adjustable mirrors

some city fella offered cash for this collectable

felt to him like selling a family member

give her up the kids badgered his wife keeping silent

folks knew the old girl waving tooting as he passed

the bond stronger with time both needing new parts

she outlasted him but just barely the boys leaving

the chrome ford emblem on his headstone