An old truck is the symbol of the man rusted by the
nights he has slept outdoors.
Chips and wrinkles tell us about difficult times.
Its old engine, now useless, is so because it was started a million times,
Whenever it was necessary to do a service, he never complained about it.
early, neither because of the rain nor because of the frost.
That is why now he rests, beautiful in our eyes and tells us, quietly,
like that of Tarsus, "I have traveled the path, I have reached the goal..."