The Giving Tree.

I have discovered I am a personifier. 
I hate going to zoos because I spend all my time imagining the emotional termoil of the animals.
AND I name my vehicles, crying when I trade them in, as though I were abandoning a loyal, old friend.

Buying a car is a horrible experience.
You are accosted the minute you arrive by whatever salesperson runs the fastest.
You are made to feel poor when you offer up your meager bottom line.
You have to try and act smooth while test driving a car that is totally foreign to you.
You wait for the "offer" from the "Deal or No Deal banker"/ rat bastard, behind the colored glass.
You wait for the car to be cleaned.
You wait.
By the time you leave, you aren't even sure what happened while you were in there, but now you drive a(n) insert car name here.

Faithful to my role as a personifier, I mourned, and composed the following, while cruising my new car, cool from the novelty of air conditioning.

For Ed.

You took me across the country.

You happily carried me camping, to work and on snowy mountain drives.

You easily moved the treasured possessions of myself and many others.

You were never afraid of a curb, or a dirt road.

What little repair you needed was due to the negligence of others, and they paid the expenses for it.

You were always up for a good fast drive, riding high above others on the road.

You took good care of me, my Ed.

Thank you, I will miss you.