Because I Really Need It to Sell THIS WEEK

Dear Blue Truck,

I know you don't want to go, and I totally understand why. We made your life meaningful. You seat 8, and I could come up with 8 people to sit in you on a regular basis. You have a removable third-row of seating and I really appreciated how easy that was to remove. I never had any trouble finding things to fit in the back either. You drove all the kids and two dogs from CA to PA and the only ongoing quirk you developed was to insist you didn't have any oil pressure until after you'd warmed up in very cold weather. Your leather seats were easy to clean. Your VHS player--played vhs movies. You entertained my twins when noone else could. You were hard to park--but easy to drive because I could see around and over everything. You pulled trailers and hauled sleds and waited patiently between deep cleanings.

But hon, you're a Ford Expedition and my gas budget can't take it anymore. We bought you used, for a good price, but promptly moved to a part of the country with a much lower cost of living and we've been upside-down ever since. I've made payments on you for over three years and I just can't afford two more years of this, even though I'm pretty sure I've now paid all the interest on the loan. Your monthly payment stands between me and peace of mind. This month, your monthly payment and your brake repair bill stood between me and the mortgage payment.

I'm sorry. You have to go. I'm sure you'll find another family! You'll find someone with more kids--who can't fit in a Taurus no matter what they do. They'll need your leather seats and 23 cup holders just as much as we did. They'll love that their 8-yr-old Blues Clues tapes still play in your machine and entertain the triplets in the way back. They won't love the gas mileage, but just like we did for so long--they'll forgive you for meeting so many other needs.

So please. Keep it together. You've always been such a surprisingly dependable truck. Stand up straight. You're going to get a bath and vacuuming of your carpet. You'll be febreezed within an inch of your life. You'll look good, smell good--show them how great you really are, and try to get yourself sold before your registration is up in ten days. You'll love your new family and they'll love you; Buck up, Trucky Truck. Your future is still ahead of you, but it's not here.