My Dad’s Ford Ranger sits in the corner of our driveway 

The truck, which has not been touched in two decades,

has started to emanate a somber solemn

I have heard the story

about how she got him through the Blizzard of 1993

more times than I can remember

Plants have anchored their roots 

into the tires

weeds have grown from the windshield wiper.

Over the past ten years,

my brother and I have pleaded my father to get rid of her

This morning, my dad took me to the side.

“It’s time to let her go,” he said.