PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

One afternoon of 1972 my grandpa bought this pick-up! He didn’t want to spend, but he needed it to move himself. He treated it like a child, cleaning it every night. The years passed by and he and his truck started to become old. But they were always together every day and every night. His wife died by the age and his sons went away, his afternoons were just with friends. But like every old man his senses started to fail, he didn’t hear well and started to forget his name. His pals started to pass away but his truck was the only one who stayed with him. His life became a routine: wake up, go around and go to bed. His rides were visiting all his properties while the sun light and his view allowed him. But the police started to complain because he didn’t obey the transits; after all he had 90 and didn’t have license. My father with great pain took the keys away and the truck stayed days in my grandfather’s yard. Every Sunday he and my father went in the pick-up without direction, until my grandpa was too old and too sick to even move, a few years after he died and the truck stayed there with all his stuff and his memories. My father had always loved that truck so he didn’t sell it. And like always happen that the old becomes fashion, his friends started to buy old cars to have them like a collection. My father has this advantage from all his friends; he had my grandfather’s pick-up, he thought he won’t spend more than they had, but oh-o, the pick-up was dead. The mechanicals tried and tried but the effort was in vain, the fact was that my dad didn’t lose the hope. After 2 years from shop to shop the pick-up worked again. Every day when he left work he tried to made the same routine my grandpa always did, caring my brother and the dog with him. But my mother has to be always prepared waiting to my dad’s call because what can we expect from and old pick up traveling long distances.
THE END!