Attachment to a vehicle is not something normal to my life, but the sale of my 1994 F-150 does serve to mark many changes.  Purchased new for $17,000 it replaced the 1987 F-150 regular cab which was too small for our growing (and groaning) children.  Now, eleven years later and 130,000 miles down the road it's gone to a recent college graduate for $4,300. 

This was the truck that moved Aunt Helen three times, hauled a couple of trips for Linda's Aunt Marion, moved Aunt Vi twice, Linda's father a couple of times, my mother once and many, many loads of material for the Finlayson project house.

Anne was 10 and now is a senior in college.  Thomas was seven and now a senior in high school.  Both are housebroken, academic successes, drivers and defining their own lives.

This was the truck of the majority of my somewhat unsuccessful attempt to get deeper into beekeeping, and it was the farmer's market truck that Linda drove until tiring of the manual transmission.

It kept us safe, showing virtually no damage from one accident that totaled the other vehicle.

As a cabin vehicle we hauled much firewood and hundreds of pounds of fencing material, compost, and black dirt.

Driving the new 2004 F-150 I find myself reaching for the shifter and pushing the non-existent clutch.  If I close my eyes I can still remember all the critical placements of my first car, the 1966 VW, and I think I'll be reaching for the shifter of this one for a while longer.