When my son read the first draft of the final chapter of Cowboy Cadillac he made an intriguing suggestion.

"Instead of ending it so suddenly, why not write about the possibilities of how that old Chevrolet may have ended up?" he said.

"Maybe the next owner rebuilt the engine and put it back on the road. Or, perhaps somebody restored it and made it into a fancy show truck. You never know, it may be someone’s pride and joy right this moment," he added.

I seriously pondered the idea but decided against it.

The fact of the matter is that I really don’t have any idea what became of the truck once it crossed our cattleguard that last day. Further, I really don’t care to speculate about it.

If that old Chevy indeed lives on, I am gratified, but whatever experiences it has been a party to since we parted company are someone else’s experiences, not mine.

To me, Johnny’s Cowboy Cadillac will always be a symbol of times I fondly recall but can never recapture. I feel better leaving this collection of stories as they are - simple, unassuming and curiously incomplete. Somehow, it seems for natural to me.

I hope I have chosen wisely.