Dear Truck,
It's just like a horse person to get all sentimental about a truck. I'm worse than a country song writer. But on the eve of the day you will depart for the great truck hangout in the sky, I feel I have no other choice.
At 165K miles with rusted out doors and no muffler or AC, your time has come. But still it saddens me as I reflect back on all the memories we shared.
You dutifully pulled the trailer to lessons and horse shows. From that first unrecognized show I took my new four year-old OTTB to (where I showed in the baby greens) to Devon years later where that same "baby" did the A/O jumpers. You pulled the trailer to Florida for three straight years. You drove to the barn and back each and every day. I ate meals in you, blasted tunes in you, laughed and cried in you.
Much later you brought that same "baby"--then 21--to the farm where he would retire.
The trailer is now long gone. So is the horse you drove. But you have remained a part of my story--a testament to the horse life I once led.
Over the past few years, you've mostly taken me to judge horse shows. You drove three human babies home from the hospital and later, as they grew, shuttled them to school, play dates, and soccer games.
You have done your duty. You've kept me safe. You've been there for me. And I'll miss you more than I should miss a truck.
Kim Ablon Whitney's latest novel set on the show circuit is Winter Circuit.