Just an Old Truck in a New Year

Text and Photography By Karen Ott Mayer

I PULLED UP TO THE LOADING DOCK AND WAITED MY TURN. A TALL THIN BLACK MAN THREW A FEEDBAG IN THE BED OF THE TRUCK IN FRONT OF ME, THEN WAVED MY WAY.

"What do you need?" he asked without missing a beat.

"Bag of goat food, please."

Of all the phrases I expected to utter in my lifetime, "goat food, please" was not one of them.

He disappeared into the shaded cavernous space of the warehouse, reappearing with a bag slung effortlessly over his shoulder. He threw it in the back of the truck. Thud. Then he came around to the window.

"How much you want for this truck?" he asked with a smile.

I grinned back.

"Not for sale."

A white 1982 Ford, 3-speed on the column, dented in spots, rusted, spray-painted bed, spray-painted dashboard. The radio quit working sometime in the nineties. Heat still works, but no air conditioning. Nearly 25 years old.

The man chuckled.

"My grandpa had one just like this. Same color and everything."

The coincidence amused me.

"This was my grandpa's, too. Hauled junk and grandkids."

"It was a good truck," he replied.

"It still is." We both laughed.

I started up the rough engine and pulled out of the gravel lot onto the highway. Another year older. Another year gone by, but still clicking.

As I drove home, cars passing fast on my left, I thought about the rolling of the calendar and another new year, realizing that somewhere in that vast expanse of time past, this old truck has gone from just being an old nuisance that occasionally abandoned me along a road, to becoming part of the family. Where my sisters and brother and I used to ride in the back now sit my nephews, laughing at the dogs chasing the truck all the way to the barn.

Recently, my 5-year-old nephew climbed in the front and, after riding down the road with me for a few moments, unexpectedly exclaimed, "I love this old truck!" When I asked the reason, he couldn't give one and shrugged his shoulders.

A New Year is about new things - new resolutions, new fiscal goals, new makes-and-models fresh off the line. Looking back, I know that it's also about the old: Memories, acquaintances, and old trucks that build a connection across gender, color and decades.

I wonder what all the Grandpas of the world were doing 25 years ago and I can't help but think probably the same thing many are doing today. Drive to the local feed store, take a child for a ride in a truck, and tell a story.

I'll make some new resolutions again this year that I'll hold dear to my heart and head - for about twenty seconds past midnight. And while I fling those out the door with the old year, I'll guard all those moments in years past that have truly defined life, like a smile born the moment an old truck ambles past, heading straight into the New Year.