It is a major week for the Far Flung home team. We experienced a major loss, a major good-bye. IQ's truck, which he has had for longer than he and I have been together, was sold to some dude.
Said truck was a '93 Ford Ranger that had been IQ's somewhat vaguely trusty chariot for many an adventure. Ian drove this truck all over the fine country of Texas, it went to Colorado and California and all the hot and dusty lands in between.
It was his work truck for caving and unexploded ordnance-hunting on Camp Bullis. It was our adventure truck on camping and climbing trips. It was our construction truck on many garden and hen-house project.
This good friend of a truck's slave cylinder for the clutch pooped out for the 4th or 5th time in 150,000 miles, and the costs outweighed the benefits of repair.
The departure of the truck is a not just the shedding of 3,000 pounds of non functioning machinery, it also portends of the death of possible selves, and possibly actual death of dudehood. We are now a single compact car family, not a couple who have a truck (and an additional little hatchback). The symbols of Ian's pre-Jessica days are dwindling, and that means it is all nagging and dentures from here on out.