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By Mark E. Scheyder
AuthorHouse LLCCopyright © 2014 Mark E. Scheyder
All rights reserved.
Quite a few years ago, in a factory in Detroit, a tiny little truck came to be. In-between giant trucks with huge bodies and dual wheels and supercharged Mustangs and slick minivans, this little truck came off the assembly line steel gray with nothing to boast about.
She was built on a Wednesday, which means that the engineers in charge of her were well in stride. They made no mistakes on her. Her main engineer, a man named Mark, made sure she was perfect. He secretly called her Bessie, and he put his initials inside her rear bumper. To him, she was special. Her little hand crank windows worked like a charm. Her radio was delightful. Her little engine performed with splendor. They painted her a beautiful cherry red. But she was still just a little plain truck. No frills. Just a simple little Ranger girl.
The giant pickups, fancy Mustangs, and slick minivans made terrible fun of her. "She's small," they said. "She has no power." They said she would never amount to anything. They thought she would break down in a week. They laughed and laughed, and the little red Ranger held her head down in shame. She had no idea why they even built her.
Yet, the little truck had a heart, and she had hope. She believed she was going to survive. She knew that somewhere, someday, her knight would arrive and make her a special little truck.
The little red Ranger sat in the factory storage lot for weeks. No one paid any attention to her. It was as if she were one big mistake. She couldn't understand why no one would take her and make her their own. She was bright and pretty, clean, new, and ready to drive. Yet no one came. She was like an orphan.
Then, one day, she woke up from a wonderful dream. She dreamed of a life where someone would really care for her. She dreamed of the nice man who had taken such good care of her in the factory. Then, she discovered that she was being loaded onto a huge truck with many other trucks. The other trucks picked on her and bumped into her on purpose. They laughed at her. "Where am I going?" she asked. But no one paid her one bit of attention. She hoped so much that she was finally going somewhere she would be happy. If only I could get away from all these big bully trucks, she thought.
The little red Ranger traveled for what seemed like forever. On and on they went. Down one highway and then another. Then, finally, they arrived at a place that wasn't very pretty. The little red Ranger's hopes began to dwindle. "Where am I going?" she asked. "Who is my owner?" But no one paid her any mind. Off the truck she came. Brutally dropped. A man with dirty boots and oily gloves jumped into her driver's seat and drove her into a warehouse. It was a little seashore town in New Jersey.
Excerpted from Bessie by Mark E. Scheyder. Copyright © 2014 Mark E. Scheyder. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse LLC.
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