EI read here all the time about people who’ve had their slippers and beach towels stolen, and that’s bad, but I think the bastards who stole my truck on Mother’s Day are worse. I loved that truck. It’s a 1985 red Toyota 4-runner with a black top. I called it my chariot. That truck contained my life: my Ni’ihau shell necklace, ‘70s peace belt, freaky clothes only I would wear and my purse with ID and everything else. I was using it for storage while moving between houses. I loved that truck so much, and now it’s probably chopped. I’ve shipped it across the ocean three times. I’m just a waitress who serves others for a living. It’s going to take a year of hard work, probably more, for me to replace everything. I had hoped to keep it forever, but now I guess not.