
Have you ever clung to a family heirloom well past its prime? You know, the one item when people see it, they ask, “Is that thing still running?”
If so, join my club. For me, it was the family farm truck — a two-toned white and gray 1992 Ford F250 with an 8-foot bed and single cab. It covered countless miles hauling hay, feed, equipment and livestock. My husband called her loud, temperamental and high-maintenance — at least I think he was referring to the truck.
Over the years, we replaced her transmission, water pump, tires, starter and battery. The repairs seemed endless, but I couldn’t bring myself to let her go. After all, she’d been a part of my family’s farming operation for more than 30 years.
As the eldest Spoonster grandson turned 15, I felt it was time for the gray girl to begin a new chapter. But was I ready to let her go?
Pass the torch
As I drove out of my brother’s driveway and glanced back, I knew I had made the right decision. While I loved that truck, I was only her keeper until the next generation could see her value. Enter Trey, my nephew.
To be clear, the gray girl was not destined to be driven solely by the boys in our family.
My mom and dad first owned the truck. When Mom passed away, Dad sold the truck for $1 to my eldest daughter — who, at 11 years old, was the only person with money in her pocket that day. (For the record, we paid her back.)
From there, the gray girl moved to our farm and became the trusted ride for my two daughters and bonus boy during their high school years. She wasn’t just transportation; she was a tradition in the making.
When we delivered the truck, my 3-year-old grandson — the son of the daughter who purchased it — handed Trey $1 as a birthday gift and said, “Now you can buy a truck.”
It was a full-circle moment, a symbol of the love that binds our family across generations.

RIDE OR DIE: Trey Spoonster is likely not to be the only one in the family who will take the old gray girl out for a drive. While his sister, Charleigh, sits shotgun now, she is a year older and may take the wheel. Still the two will create many memories — it’s a family tradition.
Cab full of memories
The gray girl is actually home. You see, she was little brother’s truck once.
She carried our parents and my brother on countless adventures. Whether it was towing a livestock trailer full of sheep or pulling a fifth-wheel camper to the Missouri State Fair, she was a constant presence in their lives.
My brother had countless hours to talk and visit with our folks in this tight single cab. Conversation with a mom who was enduring chemotherapy for ovarian cancer but choosing to sit ringside no matter what. Discussions with a dad, who to be honest, was either telling him how to drive or improve his golf game. Memories made and cherished of parents gone too soon.
But there is one thing I know — a lot of love still lingers in that truck cab, and it will surround Trey, his sisters and brother every time they open the door and climb in.
So, here’s my advice: Keep the old relics. Pass them down. They’re more than mere objects. And as the gray girl proves, sometimes, the most worn-out heirlooms have the most to offer.
They will be cherished. They will be loved. And they will live on.
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