A sad day today. I watched the scrap dealer cart away my beloved 2000 Expedition. It was a Company truck for me - my loyal partner through ten years of railroad work. Chasing derailments, investigating crossing fatalities. Day and night, rain and shine. Through the snow on 30-hour assignments. Through sand, swamp, bluestone ballast, creosote and railroad tracks. I retired and the truck came with me, serving my family for another decade. A well earned and paid-for gift. Well treated with always Autolite and Ford parts, it was nursed through 230,000 miles. But time marches on, and a replacement was found, the 2000 being offered for sale as a clean, well maintained high mileage fleet truck for a few bucks. Yesterday in moving it across the street, the thing blew out a rear brake line. Okay, another job, I figured. Climbing under I found rust. Lots of rust. Rust I never saw before -- never knew it was there. The skid plate protecting the tank that covered the brake line was rusted gone. Both trailing arms were rusted away -- you could see through them. The upper control arms were gone too and there wasn't nothing left of the track bar. Sure, if I was in high school, I would have put another yard of junk yard parts into it and on my way. But the Expedition earned its retirement. They came and got it, good tires, battery, fresh trans fluid and all and left me with $300 for scrap. It was a sad day. An old friend was gone, along with the last remnant of a beloved 30 year career. I guess now I might be growing a bit rusty myself.