One of the things I enjoy most is taking my truck for a drive. When the couple who bought my futon off Craig’s List asked if I could deliver, I jumped at the chance to take my truck for a spin.

While the idea of delivering furniture might not appeal to most people, there is a bit of Dad Logic behind my madness. You see, my little pickup isn’t what you would consider a family car. There’s not really room for more than two people, a car seat doesn’t exactly fit, and the bumpy ride can be a turn off. This means that a ride in my truck means peace and quiet for me. No kid. No wife. Sometimes a dog in the passenger seat. And lots of open highway.

I’ve had my truck for a little over 10 years, which means it is the one thing that has been with me longer than anything else. I bought the truck after I landed my first desk job (back when I thought making $23,000/yr was a lot of money). I bought it new, so every mile on it is mine – countless trips to Vegas, a few drives to Arizona, the long drive to Oregon when we moved from California, and now I’m adding the occasional Seattle trip to the mix. I drove the truck on my first date with Amy (now my wife). I used the truck to pick up my grandpa and take him to breakfast a week before he died. I used the truck to haul home my giant TV from Costco. And today the truck moved a futon.

I’ve had a lot of grand adventures with this truck, which is why I’ll be sad to see it go, even if I do get a really neat sports car to replace it. The other bit of sentimental value is that the truck was the first large ticket purchase I paid for all on my own. Every last penny of those car payments came from my account. When I finally got the pink slip, I felt like I had achieved something. I was an adult, making enough money to pay my own bills and to afford a few nice things in life.

I’m not much of a religious guy these days, but back in the day I do remember reading this verse from I Corinthians 13, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” In many ways, my truck is that one last bit of adolescence I’m hanging onto. It is my refuge when I want to get away from a crying kid. I can crank the radio as loud as I want without anyone (except the dog) complaining about it. I can drive fast. I can do doughnuts in muddy fields just for fun.

A friend bought a Ford Ranger about the same time that I got my Chevy S-10. I cried a little, sad tear when I heard he traded it in for a minivan. And while I may not be ready to go quite that far, I am realizing it is finally time to put my truck (and my adolescence) behind me and just accept that grey hair, bills, a mortgage and sensible car are some realities I just need to get used to these days.