The Truck

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As I drove to register for the Sex Offender Registry today, my truck looked so nice and clean.

 

Everyone looked as it drove by, to see all the chrome, grill guard, hood scoops and the two-tone black paint. Every where we go people say what a wonderful truck it is.

 

Once I went in to register the officer told me of something new. Starting today my truck had to be registered too! Now I looked outside and I knew this wouldn’t set well at all. I know for sure that my truck has never done anything to end up on a list like this. When I came out and started it up, the strong diesel engine came to life and it stood so tall and proud. Then, when I told it the news, I heard a sputter in the engine and it seamed to shake all over. I could feel the springs sagging under the weight of the terrible thing that had just happened. As I started out of the parking lot, I saw it moving its mirrors to see if anyone was following and I just know its head lights were dim and looking in every direction. As we passed cars along the way home, I know it was trying to cover its license plate from the shame. When we got home, it went straight into the garage instead of showing off its paint in the driveway.

 

It has been a week now and I can’t get it to leave the garage because of the shame and fear. As I said, I know my truck has done nothing to deserve this treatment, but then again neither have many people on the Sex Offender Registry.