Throwback Thursday - Truck

Back in December, Vicki mentioned Michael Perry and some of his wonderful books, including Truck. She also had high praise for Population: 485, so I found a used copy, read it, and completely agreed with Vicki. I listened to Truck as an audiobook, read by Michael Perry himself, and absolutely loved it. I can't exactly explain why; I have no interest in fixing up an old International Harvester pickup, but this book is about so much more. The book and everything that Michael had to say about life just spoke to me, maybe because trucks have always seemed to figure into our lives. My husband John has owned, worked on, and driven numerous old trucks.

This is the 1933 Ford. It did have a cool paint job, but was distinctly lacking in amenities like power steering, comfortable seats, leg room, and insulation between the engine compartment and the passenger's legs.

This is John's current baby, a 1968 Ford.

 

I don't remember what the mechanics were working on that day. It could have been the electrical system, exhaust, or any number of other things. I recently spent an afternoon in the driver's seat alternately pressing and releasing the brake pedal while John was trying to install brakes that actually worked. Fun times!

It is getting to the point where most of the important stuff works and we can actually drive it out of the driveway, although John's wondering posture (hands on hips, wondering where the oil is leaking from or what will break next) is still seen alarmingly often.

Justin is on his second truck. The first was a 2006 Ford F250 that was sadly was totaled in a slippery snow storm in March of last year.

That got replaced with a 2002 Ford F250. This is the truck that got him to Montana and back, but he's learning that older diesel vehicles require plenty of time and money to fix the fuel leaks, malfunctioning thermostats, heater cores, and serpentine belts.

While these have all been fine and occasionally useful trucks, I do have a favorite.

Old Dog wasn't much to look at, but he was the best truck.

No pretensions, just plenty of torque to get things done. None of our other vehicles could be driven into a field to pull out a tractor that was stuck in the mud, chained to old bushes with deep roots to pull them out, or taken for a drive on a summer evening and receive lots of smiles, thumbs up, and appreciative honks. Old Dog was what I pictured when I was reading Truck, remembering him with affection.

He developed problems with the electrical system, so we were never sure if he was going to start or stay running. Old Dog was fun to drive, but when he would come to a dead stop in the middle of traffic, that quickly crossed the line from fun to "oh, crap!" John eventually sold him and moved on with his vehicular affections, but I'm not sure I have. I drive a boring Subaru Forester, but someday I'd like to have my own (working!) Old Dog, complete with his name proudly emblazoned on the hood.