Just got the following e-mail from that Devil-ette Heather. It's a sad day for all of us who rode a mile or more in Alice. There will never be another white, wheezy and oh-so-scrappy (in every sense of the word) pick up truck like her. Alice, we'll miss you!
If you are getting this, it either means you understood my strange
relationship with Alice, my beloved truck, or you at least kept a straight
face whenever I became emotional (read: financially illogical) about her.
Either way, I thank you for that.
Though I planned to donate her later this month for some worthy cause, fate
became impatient with me and she was impounded by the city of San
Francisco. I was allowed one final visit this afternoon, long enough to
retrieve some beloved goods which included: oil-stained feather boas,
concert souvenir drumsticks, 10 red glitter cowgirl hats, well-worn Mexican
blankets, camping gear and various bits of emergency cash stashed here and
Special thanks go to:
My brother, Rob, who handed her over in 1990, " . . . she's got a year
left in her, tops."
My father, Bob, who simply made me an inside latch for the camper shell,
when I developed the habit of sleeping in the back, instead of arguing
the logic of it.
My dear friend, Al, who, in 1997, created the magical starter button
that delighted all guests: "Now Heather, this will only last a couple of
weeks, you have to get this properly fixed . . . "
Automobile Association of America
Ted & Al's Towing
All mechanics everywhere that eventually came to refer to her as "Alice"
instead of "your truck."
All Devil-ettes, especially Jamie, Devi and Tracey, who knew she was a
helluva soulful gal and just needed a "touch up."
Most especially, James Hampton, who escorted me to the grim, depressing
yard of jailed vehicles on the edge of town - a sadder sight you have not
seen. He is the one who took the final photos and comforted me even as I
bawled my head off with greasy yard workers looking on, perplexed by my
anguish. Of course, all they could see was the rusted body, cracked
windshield, fading stickers ("Jesus Shaves!") and dented sides - just
another piece of metal junk to them.
Sadly, Alice will probably not rest in peace but most likely, piece-s.
Still, she was always up for mile after mile of adventure and she sure made
those shiny cars jump outta the way! I'll miss her terribly.
Strangely attached to inanimate objects,