Joe was just here with a Pontiac Vibe. I think it's the car that we're getting. The dealership offered us the best price for our Tahoe and he was working them for a lower price on the Vibe. He brought one over for me to look at, which was kinda cool because I didn't have to bring Jackson over there with me. (Last time that didn't work well and I sat in the van with him the whole time watching Rolie Polie Olie.)

I told him that he can't just switch over the cars. I need to have the truck here before we let go of it. I know that sounds strange, but I have to take my normal pictures of it before it goes. This is something that my dad used to do, he had photo albums, not of his friends or family, but of his cars. I have in some senses done the same thing, but for some reason hadn't yet taken pics of the truck, not even when it was brand new and ultra shiny. I think it's because I just assumed we were keeping it. FOREVER. But, gas prices go up and our financial situation doesn't get any better. So, we're saying goodbye to a car that I somewhat consider to be my first baby (cats excluded, as they were here before the truck). ***Keep in mind I know that my actual child is my first baby***

Still not sure why the emotion attached to this truck. Maybe because I see it as a big bold kick ass vehicle that I liked associating with myself. I felt like I could take on the world as long as I was behind that steering wheel. How sad does that sound? I connected my worth to that of my "ride."

Maybe it's good that it's going. I don't drive it anymore, even when I've had the chance. I take the van. For some reason. I take that dang mom-mobile.

I know that there will be days when I miss it. It's a car I have to keep saying to myself. Just a car. They come. They go. They are steel. Big pieces of expensive steel. But in the end, the most important thing is that in the end it's still...just...a...car.