By Mark David Blum, Esq.

Today, my heart died. One of the great loves of my life, without notice or hint, suddenly was gone. I looked all over. I called. I prayed. But, the fact remains; she is gone.

I am so empty; without direction and I know not what to do. All I can do is pace in circles, obsess over her fate, and dream of the day that maybe we will be together again.

She was my heart and soul. Over the many years, we have traveled together, she has been my rock, my comfort, my home, my strength, my peace, and at times the only one who would carry me in her warmth and comfort. The memories we shared; good times and bad, through tears and indescribable joy, we were always together.

I remember the day we first met. It was love at first sight. Nothing was going to stop me from giving her all that I had. I had to have her and make her my own. From that day until today, I remained loyal and honorable; straying only occasionally on long trips.

In her, I have left my deepest secrets. She carries with her my history and so many passionate memories of glorious days gone by. Without her holding me safely and always being dependable, I am no longer strong. She was my womb. She kept me safe. Now, I am but a shell of my former self.

It was 1998 when I first laid eyes upon her. I walked right up, handed over a check to her owner, and left with her. Paying cash for the first time for my truck, I have loved and cherished that truck until today. Today, she was stolen.

Her name was the Foodymobile. The nickname comes from the former chief of police who when he testified in a trial, was so arrogant and obnoxious, that I blame his testimony directly for the large cash payout I received. First on my shopping list was that 1998 Dodge Ram 1500.

This morning, whilst in the midst of my lawyerly duties, I parked my sweet baby directly in front of the Justice Center on State Street (right next door to the headquarters of Syracuse Police Dept). I dutifully paid the meter, took the receipt and placed it on my dash, and went inside the Justice Center to engage in the administration of justice.

It was not even twenty minutes later I came out of the building … and my truck; she was gone.

Of course it was properly registered, licensed, insured, blahblahblah and I had paid for an hour and had only been gone 20 minutes. TWENTY MINUTES! There was neither reason nor time to have the truck towed. It was obvious: the truck had been stolen.

I walked right into Syracuse Police Dept and tried to filed a complaint about my truck being stolen … and that it had just happened and if someone would just get on the god damned radio, it might actually be spotted and stopped. But no, the guy at the desk was too busy and it took about an hour before a police officer actually came out so I could file a stolen vehicle report.

As of this writing, I hold out no hope that my baby will come home.

But more important that the truck are some of the personal items inside. My collection of parking stubs from the State Fair dating back nearly ten years. There were business records, my baseball mitt from when I was a kid, and other small inconsequential but highly precious mementos. Of course, all my cassette tapes were in the truck as well.

My truck was the last surviving “thing” from the “old days”. We had lost everything else but I was holding onto that truck for dear life. She was my baby.

Today, she no more.

Instead she is off pleasuring another. I hope her new master can afford her because she is very demanding and expensive.

She will always be a part of me and be with me.

Goodbye, my Love. It was fun while it lasted.