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My Grandpa's old Truck
Throughout my life, a lot of things changed as the years passed, but something that remained constant as time went by, was my grandfather’s old grey Chevy truck. He bought it when he was young, despite not having much money, thanks to his hard work and sacrifice. That truck grew old with him, and it was with him through his wedding, the birth of his kids and even the birth of his grandchildren, which is why he loved that truck almost as much as he loved his family. Other than the occasional trip to the mechanic there was not a day that truck was not there for my grandpa. Anywhere he had to go he would always arrive early in his truck, be it a doctor’s appointment, picking me up from school, or any other place he had to be in he would always arrive at least half an hour early in his old truck. He loved it so much that he did not allowed his children to buy him a new one, he did not need a new one since he already had his truck. I remember riding that truck everywhere, day and night, cold and hot, on a sunny day or on a rainy one. I remember listening to his music or hearing his stories about when he was young as we drove. I remember falling asleep in that truck and waking up on my bed. I remember playing as a kid in it and pretending I was driving it. I remember as a sixteen year old learning how to drive and actually driving it. I remember the day my grandpa fell and broke his hip and when his doctor told him it would be best if he didn’t drove that truck anymore. I remember the day he finally got a new car and how weird it was seeing him driving a white Toyota Camry instead of the old grey Chevy truck. But I don’t remember the day when I saw that old truck and wasn’t excited, because it never happened, every time I saw it I was happy because I knew my grandpa was with me and that day would be a good day.
