by Ike E.
In the ‘80s, I bought an F-250.
It became my family car.
It had a six-foot bed, a cooler, a stove, and lights.
The bed had 3 pieces of plywood to make a six-foot bed with a foam pad.
We took it to Canada.
My wife would lay on the bed and read a book.
I had put a light in the back.
She would read while I drove for 1,000 miles.
I had the F-250 for years until my son wrecked it.
It sat in my driveway for years.
I finally got it running.
I had it a number of years.
Then Wanda, my wife, wrecked it again.
It sat in my driveway for two years.
My son got it and took it to Washington.
He said he would fix it up.
A year later, we went to see my two sons in Washington.
The first thing I saw was the F-250 rusting away,
So we virtually shot it.