What ever happened to the ‘Silveraydo?’ A little life story. Enjoy. I started my first YouTube channel in September of 2007. After 7 years of comedy skits, I finally went viral with a little video about a Chevy truck I was still was making payments on. The barn in the background was on the farm I worked at for 11 years. For the entirety of that time, I only made $10 per hour. That’s what felonies do to your life, kids. Let’s rewind a little bit. When I was around 13 years old I stole a car with a couple of other kids. One of them was a friend of a friend named Brad Chansler. That’s how we met. We instantly hit it off and became best friends. Lifelong best friends. We rarely went a day without AT LEAST speaking. I lived in boys homes and shelters mostly. I didn’t have nice clothes or shoes and kids often made fun of me. Brad grew up in a beautiful condo with both parents. Brad had beautiful brand name clothing like Tommy Hilfiger and Nautica. He came from an exceptional family. His mom and dad always accepted me and I still call them mom and ‘big Steve’ to this very day. They were ALWAYS good to me. I didn’t understand this at the time. But Brad would take me to his laundry room where his freshly laundered clothes would hang. He’d pick me out an expensive shirt and say, ‘here, wear this.’ Later in life I’d realize that Brad knew I was getting picked on and wanted to change that. We were rambunctious teens. We drank a lot. Did a lot of drugs. Made a lot of noise. That’s what we did. I ended up having kids and settling down while Brad stumbled deeper into drug abuse. We remained friends throughout everything. Brad wound up going to rehab while my career was in full swing. I would donate my gently used clothes and shoes to the other residents there. I made sure Brad had everything he needed. New shoes, toiletries, clothing, etc. When Brad graduated the program, he moved into an apartment as part of his transition. I took him to my house. We stood in my driveway and I pointed at my ‘Silveraydo.’ I said you like my truck? He said, ‘hell yeah!’ I threw him the keys and said, ‘it’s yours.’ Brad cried. I then took him to Walmart and filled the truck with items for his new apartment. Rugs. TV’s. Dishes. Chairs. Tables. A Nintendo Switch. He asked me ‘why?’ Why was I doing all of this for him? I reminded him about the shirts he used to let me wear. I told him I never forgot that. The way it made me feel. What it did for my self esteem. I seen this ‘ahhh’ look come across his face. Like he finally understood that his kindness came full circle. A few months later and Brad was unreachable. I got a call from the Louisville Metro Police Department. The truck had been impounded and Brad never got it out of my name like I instructed him to. The LMPD knew exactly who I was and asked me if I wanted to pick up my truck. I told them it wasn’t mine. It no longer belonged to me. And I didn’t want it. To this day, the whereabouts of the truck are unknown to me. Just a few weeks later and Brad was found dead by his mother. OUR mother. He had overdosed on heroin in her basement. I delivered the eulogy at his funeral and left his ashes at the bottom of a hill in Kentucky. I walked away in shambles. Unable to see from the tears. The wallpaper photo is the last pic I took with my best friend. I’m embracing him like that because I knew it would be. And that’s what happened to the Silveraydo.