One Summer, my first Summer with a driver's license, I started to daily drive my dad's 1971 C20 Chevy pickup. It's a beautiful truck, coated in bold yellow paint and just enough rust to be considered rustic and not junk. There hadn't been anything in my life that had felt quite as cool as commanding that hunk of rusty rattling metal down the expressway, pushing the needle on the speedometer closer and closer to its limit.

Driving that beast like a racecar every day eventually began to take its toll, and oftentimes I found myself on the side of the road scraping together whatever I could find in the glovebox that could be of any use in an impromptu repair; nevertheless, she continued to carry on day after day.

Many nights after a long shift or a rough practice, she would just barely start. Sputtering and coughing out black smoke and unsettling noises, I would just barely get onto the road without stalling; however, I never broke down on my way home. It was always as if there was life inside of the engine that knew it had to get home, and I have sputtered and stalled yards before my driveway with just enough momentum to pull in with a dead engine. Like a trusty steed, my truck put itself through hell to take care of me trusting that I would take care of her in return.

It was the perfect car for my high school shenanigans. Everyone knew which car was mine. It served as a stage the first time I ever played guitar for anyone, it served as a bus when teammates needed a ride home, and when it was finally just me and my truck, it served as a friend. I drove too fast and peeled out of every traffic light, and I'd do it all over again, tickets and all.

In the modern world there are very few things that are made to last; if old things lasted then why would anyone ever buy something new? That mindset has taken away the magic of the classic pickup truck, the vehicle built for work, the vehicle built with pride, the vehicle built to last. What from our generation will remain for the next? Certainly not our gadgets, they hardly last us long enough for the new ones to come out. Will the cars of our time even start when their software becomes obsolete?

I believe that there is true treasure in simple things. Things like old pickup trucks. The kinds of things that stand tall to the test of time and show no fear.