Situational Anger

I needed to renew the registration on Anne's truck.  I tried first online, but that wasn't possible.  I discovered later that it wasn't possible because the insurance made an error in listing the VIN number.  But that's another story, and another irritation.  Nonetheless, it was an oportunity to go to the DMV and get the truck re-titled to me alone, instead of to both of us.

I really hated to do that--just hated it.  That was Anne's truck, and now it's mine (we were both on the previous title).  Of course, I had to pay an extra ten dollars to buy my own truck from me, since it's a new title.  Anne loved that truck.  She shopped for it (for months on end).  She negotiated with the salesman.  All the folks at Sid Dillon knew her by sight and by first name.  She signed all the paperwork.  The first time I saw it was when she gave me that first proud ride in her brand new truck.

It just isn't right, damn it.  I don't care who's name is on the title..  That truck was hers and no legal fiction is going to change that for me.

But there it is.  So now I get to take care of her "baby."  It's past due for an oil change, since I've been gone a lot.  I have that scheduled for later in the week, so honey, you can relax a bit.  I can hear you groaning over each extra mile beyond the three thousand.  I know the poor thing is filthy, but it'll get washed when they change the oil, so calm down, dear.  I can hear you fretting about your truck, and I promise to take the very best care of it that I can.  I want it to be around for a long time.

It will always be your truck.  Thank you for letting me use it.