The Old Blue

My Sweet Al made up his mind and there is no changing it. Is it a man thing, or am I missing something here? When Al got his new truck, he parked his old blue one in the yard, and it’s been sitting in the same spot for ten years now.

A young man building on our garage, spotted the old truck and wanted to buy it. He took it for a spin. It was just what he needed. He said he would build the porches we wanted in exchange for the truck.

To me, trading the truck was a perfect solution. We’d clean up our yard, get a front porch and a back porch for one old truck.

How many trucks does My Sweet Al need? Apparently he needs four. He has the one he drives. There is the dogs’ truck, known as his work truck, the one the dogs nap in, and ride to the mailbox with Al. There’s the old white truck, which doesn’t run. It showed up in 1977 and hasn’t left the property. Al contends it has a good motor and he can’t turn loose of it. Then, there is the blue truck. 

The Old Blue all of a sudden became an answer to our dreams. For years, we dreamt of the day we’d have a back porch to sit on.  We imagined ourselves in the evening listening to the river and looking at the stars. Al would dream of catching trout from the river behind our house and I’d write my stories about life on the Blanco River.

I Googled Kelly’s Blue Book to learn how much it was worth. To my surprise, it was worth more than I thought. I told the young man I was sure Al would sell it, because Al had a good truck, and he didn’t need this one.

Talk about a diamond in our own backyard. I told Al it sounded like a fair price for both parties. The young man wanted it, had time to do the work, and would trade his labor for the price of the truck.

My Sweet Al’s vision blurred and he became shortsighted at the mention of losing his truck. He said, “I won’t get any money out of it and I won’t have my truck. He doesn’t have a down payment.”

I said, “He doesn’t need a down payment, we are trading the truck for work of the same value. We won’t give him the truck until he finishes the job.”

“But, my truck will be gone and I won’t have any money.”

“Right now, the truck is here and you still don’t have any money. What’s the difference? I have a solution, he can do the work, he gets the truck and we’ll put some money in your account. I’ll get the porches, we’ll clean up the yard, and I’ll be happy. It’s a win, win.

Al didn’t budge. I told my friend the story and asked whose side he would chose. Mine or Al’s?

He said, “No brainer, he’d sell the truck.”

So, it isn’t a man thing, it must be an Al Slade thing. I had another plan. I wasn’t finished with this dilemma, yet. I’d talk to our daughter, Allison. She can get her dad to do anything. But, before talking to her, I sweetly asked Al one more time.

And one more time he said, “It’s my truck and I might need it. The answer is no and no is final.”

It’s not final in my mind, yet. Maybe I’ll get creative. I’ll park the Old Blue in the backyard between the house and river. I’ll make My Sweet Al lift me up into the truck bed like he used to do when we were young, foolish, and in love. The problem is, Al’s got a bad back and I’ve gained a few pounds. I don’t know if we could get up in that truck again.

I do remember those days when we’d sit on folding chairs, drink ice tea from mason jars, and dream of the days we would grow old together.

That day has come. We might have to do it again, this time in the Old Blue.  We’d turn on the radio in the truck and listen to Leann Rimes sing, Blue, Oh, so lonesome for you. Why can’t you be blue over me?

Final Brushstroke! I’m thinking, two porches in the hand are better than one blue truck in the bush. Or it could be, one less blue diamond in the backyard equals two porches and a happy wife.

After writing this article I learned from my friend’s wife, that he would sell Al’s old blue truck but wouldn’t turn loose of his own.