My Sweetheart

Jolynn Jennings

3^rd hour

12-16-10

Object Paper

My Sweetheart

           

            My sweetheart may not be much of a looker, but I love him anyway. His scarred, frail frame looks as if it will fall apart at any minute. He originates from Japan, but no one would guess when looking at him, for he wears skin of white. Americans love his kind, but turn away from him as he drives down the street.

            His worn out shoes and harsh voice reveal his true age and he requires special treatment from time to time. His overhauled, replaced and rebuilt parts help reinforce him, but he is dying inside. He takes ages to warm up in the morning and he groans when I try to move him too quickly. He wobbles and wanders; my small arms seem barely strong enough to keep him steady. He owes these health problems to his ghastly drinking habits, which only get worse with age. Most with his age and condition would be sleeping in the bone yard by now, but somehow he manages to keep moving forward.

            He doesn’t work with the same vigor as he did in his youth, but he gets the job done just as well. He doesn’t move with the “get-up-and-go” like he used to. In his prime he plowed through any job with the strength of a hundred horses.

            Some may wonder why I stay so faithful to the old beater, but I have my reasons. He never fails to get me where I need to go. We manage to make it out of every rut we come across. The rough ride brings about occasional pain, but at least we can keep moving forward with no regrets. He always protects me from the harsh elements and he helps me easily review the life that speeds behind be. Our memories together would make a beautiful love story.

            I know my sweetheart may not last much longer, but I will hold faithful to the end. I’ll be sad when my good old truck dies, but I will surely find another that I like.