My greatest memory was when I got my truck. I remember when I first woke up it was a Saturday morning. I'd just gotten out of bed and my parents were dressed and getting ready to go to town, and then to Sweet Home (where my truck was), but I did not know that.
About an hour and a half passed and I started to wonder where they had gone.
About another hour and a half passed, and a truck that I did not recognize pulled into the driveway, and then our Ford pulled in beside it. When I saw the truck, I had mixed emotions. I ran outside and hugged both of my parents and almost cried. When I ran outside I could smell the old truck's exhaust, which I loved. The truck was black and silver and had a red pinstripe and a 6-inch lift. It was a long bed, 1986 Chevy 4x4 with 35-inch tires. There is only one problem: I'm only fourteen (but I will be fifteen on May Third).
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