Although not as emotional for me as the untimely departure of the Rav 4, a couple of weeks ago I boldy took our check book by the reigns and told Chris one Saturday afternoon: C'mon, we're going to buy you a new (to us) truck. Why such haste you might ask? It basically boiled down to the following reasons:
1. If you sneezed too close to Chris' truck, the body where the rust was accumulating would shed a little in the driveway;
2. You could hear Chris coming from a mile away - no joke, and the "banana in the tail pipe" would not have been the solution;
3. If it rained too much, Chris would either have to start his car 4-5 times during the work day or either get a ride home from a co-worker OR Maeve and I;
4. I felt as though on any given day, Chris could be driving along and the entire chassis would give way leaving him with nothing but a steering wheel and an axle.
So of course, in true Bridget fashion, I kissed the hood of the truck, made Chris do the same, and took a few photographs to help us memorialize everything that the white truck meant to us. Toyota...oh what a feeling.
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