You can't take your truck with you

I don't believe most people remember things that happen to them when they were little, especially younger than five, but I do. I remember my first birthday. I remember having cake - a regular round layer cake at the kitchen table on our house on Glenmoor. It must have been evening because the overheard lamp was on. Since my birthday is in July and it stays lighter longer, it must have been well after dinner time. There were only a few people around the table. I got one gift. It was a box wrapped in yellow tissue paper and inside there was a chalk blue steel dump truck with six wheels. It worked. The trailer lifted up and down on a single hydraulic lift and the gate was hinged along the top corners so that when it dumped, the bottom opened to release the load. It was heavy and it was really cool. I remember thinking that I wasn't sure if it was for me or not. They had made me open it, but I didn't understand why it was mine all of a sudden - even though I really liked it.
I kept that truck for a long time and played with it many many times in the sandbox we had in our backyard. I think it finally rusted out and got thrown out. Too bad.