The Ride

So many times I've pulled in the cul-de-sac and the garage door is up and his truck is parked in his spot and I think, "Oh, Trav beat me home." Well, he did beat me home, but not the one down here.

The other day, I decided to wash his truck and fill it up with gas. I knew it was going to be hard to sit in it, so I really geared myself up. Every time I had driven it before, Travis would say, "Go easy on her." or "Don't spin the tires!" OK, Trav. (eye roll) I got his keys (even though I have his truck key on my key ring) and got in. Smells like Travis, and it's immaculate, unlike the van, which drove Travis insane.

Now, I don't want people to think of Trav as one of those guys who LOVED his truck because he wasn't ever that type of guy. When I met him he was driving a boxy Mitsubishi Montero, but it served it's purpose, it could fit two car seats in the back with a 7 year old in the middle and had a hitch for the tent trailer. He bought it off some older women that didn't put a lot of miles on it. It had rust on the hood, but he bought it anyway. I convinced Trav to buy a truck because eventually I wanted to buy 4-wheelers. If Trav and I ever had to go anywhere, just the two of us, he never wanted to take his truck, he was always more comfortable driving the family wag, with the extra 5 empty seats.

I got in and turned the key and click, click, click. I laughed, and I said, "You don't want me to drive your truck, do ya?" I could almost hear him do that suppressed giggle that he had. I grabbed everything and got out, and sent a text to DJ. "Guess Travi didn't want me to drive his truck, it wouldn't turn over, can you look at it after school?" Received a text back, "What are you doing in his truck anyway?" Now, I know that there are communication problems involved when you send a text or email, so I sent a text back, "I wanted to wash it and fill it with gas..." (G's DJ, a little protective of Travis' truck, are we? Don't worry Bear, that truck is staying right where he left it.)

DJ gets home and it's just the battery - to be expected after sitting for so long. He'll jump it after work. He gets home from work and does. "Mom, it's fixed, you can take it now." What?! Now?! I'm not prepared! I go anyway.

When you start Trav's truck all you hear is the engine. Before he turns off a vehicle he shuts everything down, the A/C, the radio . . .

I turn on the stereo and it plays the CD he listened to last. It's a CD of Tim McGraw's Greatest Hits given to him by his parents. That CD means a lot to this family. First, Trav and I were "told" that he danced to a song with the girls at Ashley's wedding and as he was dancing with them he got a little teary eyed. We don't remember the song that was playing, and Trav blames the tears on the amount of alcohol consumed - - can you say "open bar"? But we will take the girls' word for it. If you attended Trav's funeral, I chose "My Little Girl" to be played. And lastly, my special memory is when he got home from the hospital the first time, my housework had gotten behind and I needed to get some spring cleaning done. I was wiping down the blinds in the basement. Trav decided to take his truck for a spin and was on a sort of "high" because he was getting closer to getting back to a normal life. He came down to the basement and one of the girls was on Danielle's blog and the song "I Need You" was playing. He took me in his arms and danced with me, I had a dirty rag in one hand and his hand in the other. The girls just sat there and giggled. I shake my head in disbelief that that was our last dance. How happy I am now, that I didn't push him away and say, "No, I'm sweaty or hot." or something. I just remember burying my face in his neck.

I took his truck for a ride, playing the CD, getting gas, took it through the car wash and when I got to the road to turn down to go home . . . I just kept on driving, until it got dark.

As I pulled in the cul-de-sac, I started shutting everything down, like he would have liked. In the past, whenever we went somewhere together either as a family or just us, as he was pulling into the garage he would say, "Thanks for going with me." and everybody would say, "Thanks for taking us." I loved that, he was always grateful that we wanted to hang out with him. When really it was the opposite . . .