Because I was born in late August, I've always been 6-8 months younger than most of my class. Because of this, my friends were starting to drive well before I could. This gave me car fever, bad!
Also; I always liked to take things apart, see what made them work, then put them back together. I think I got that from my dad. He almost always did his own mechanic work when he could. In fact, he was partners in a garage many years before I was born.
To feed this need to work on stuff, and feed my car fever (and to keep me from "working" on my dad's stuff) my parents agreed to let me get "some kind of old car" to work on. I already had one in mind.
My grandfather's farm was a gathering place for my mom's family. 4 miles outside of town, many of her brothers and sisters had gardens there. We didn't just garden there, we camped, played in the creek, swam in the ponds, fished, and picnicked there. It was a great place to just wonder around in the woods and fields. There were rocks to play around, ponies to ride, and old barns to explore.
Sitting next to the main barn was my uncle's old truck. It had been sitting for a long time, and I loved playing in and around it. Here is it's history, as far as I know:
It had belonged to the US Forest Service. They had sold it to the guy that owned the Shell Station at I-75. (I worked there several years, but not for the same guy) He traded it to one of my uncles for a 1966 Ford Galaxy race car, with a 427 engine. That uncle drove it a while, then traded it to my uncle Carl for 4 new tires. Uncle Carl used it around the farm for a while, until a rear spring shackle broke, then he parked it next to the barn. That's where I saw it, and fell in love with it. A deal was struck, and it was MINE!
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