Dear Little Red,

Hey, I know you’re exhausted, but I just want to let you know how much I appreciate you for getting me from point A to point B. To outsiders, you are just an old hand-me-down truck passed down to the youngest sibling, but to me, there’s so must more to you then your rusted red exterior.

Your 217,000 miles shows that you are a fighter. I remember the day you finally hit 200,000 miles: I picked up my friend Rachel and we drove around on the backroads for a few miles until you finally hit the big 2-0-0. We were ridiculously excited, squealing with glee. Now we have that memory forever. All because of you, Little Red. And remember my first speeding ticket? Who would have even thought it was possible for you to get up to 70 miles an hour in a 55? I was so mad, but it just keeps building to the sentimental value you have to me. You’ve been by my side through everything since 16.

Old friend, you’ve seen me in so many different states of emotion. You’ve seen me cry because I drove through the town during Christmas time, and the lights were just so pretty I was overwhelmed with emotion. You’ve seen me laugh until my gut hurt when we would shove three of us in your single bench seat. So many tears have been caught on your steering wheel as a Taylor Swift song plays in the background at 2 a.m. Driving you on the dirt roads at night have been my therapy for years and I cannot thank you enough for being my escape.

I know you may be self-conscious about your dents and scratches, but they don’t bother me one bit. It gives you character. Even the dent that Dad made when he accidentally backed up into you with his car while he tried to drive with a cast on. Or the chip off one of the lights in front from when that deer came out of nowhere. Let’s not forget the recent duck tapped piece of plastic that fell off of the window. We both are a little broken in ways, that’s what makes us fit together so well. We might not have it all together, but together we have it all, Little Red.

From some of the noises you make and the struggle we have sometimes, I know our time together is limited. I now that one day you won’t be able to make it to where we need to go. This makes my heart heavy because of the memories we share. The starry nights you served as a radio and a seat at the bonfire. The couple times I slide off the road into the ditch during winter, but you still hung in there. The slamming doors, late nights, ice-cream runs, drives to work, racing to high school late, and the love and friendships, you and I hold so many memories within your miles.

I couldn’t thank you and appreciate you enough Little Red. My Ford Ranger. My first car. My escape. My fun. My beat-up truck. My friend.

Much love,

Cami