In the fall of my sophomore year in high school, I borrowed some tires on Ford truck wheels, bought some brake fluid, a car battery and some gas, and gathered some tools. My dad and I loaded all that up and headed to the farm to get my truck.
It is a 1953 Ford F-100, with a 239 Flathead V-8 and a "Three on the Tree" three speed transmission. 1953 was the first of the F-100 trucks, and the last of the Flathead V-8 engines in the USA. (I don't know why, but I have loved that Flathead V-8 since the first time I saw it) It was also the Ford Motor Company (FoMoCo) 50th anniversary.
I don't have pictures of it from that day, but here's what it looked like, back to front:
Someone had used a torch to cut a hole in the top of the rear bumper, to bolt a trailer towing ball onto it. The tailgate was hanging from it's latch chains, because both hinges were broken. The rear axle was sitting on wood blocks, because the tires were missing. One of the spring shackles had broken, so the spring was driven through the wood bed. Speaking of the wood bed, most of it was rotted away. Both rear fenders were rusted out where the running boards bolted on. Someone had painted "Farm Truck" down the side of the bed with a brush and house paint. Both running boards were rusted through. There were holes in the back of the cab where there had been a gun rack bolted in. The driver's door window was missing. The rest of the glass was cracked, except the windshield. The seat was rotted and falling apart. The top had been bent down, and popped back up. Someone had cut a hole in the dash for a radio, with a cold chisel. Yes, they cut a hole in the dash with a chisel. The passenger fender support had broken, so the fender had flopped until it had cracks around the wheel well. The front bumper had been welded to the frame, along with some angle iron uprights. I guess they were to push cars with. The truck had hit a tree or post, so the driver side fender was caved in, along with the original grill. It had been painted, with a rattle can, a sort of forest green. The original black was showing through in so many places, I'm not sure if it was a green truck with black spots or a black truck with green spots.
We filled the gas tank and master cylinder, bled the brakes, installed the battery, and (believe it or not) it fired right up. We drove it around the farm a little, until my dad was satisfied the brakes and steering were good. He gave me instructions on how to handle being towed, keeping my truck away from his. He then hooked a tow chain between it's front bumper and his truck's rear bumper, and we headed to town.
Keep in mind, I had driven his truck and work van around the farm, and I had driven a couple of times around our neighborhood block, but I had NEVER driven out on the road. Looking back on it, I'm not sure what he was thinking. I was barely 15, and a year from having a driver's license. Sure, you could drive farm equipment on the road at 14, and the truck did say "Farm Truck" down the side, but I just don't think that applied here.
We did make it home without incident, and I did love "driving" my truck home. (even if the engine wasn't running)
When we got home, he pulled me into the driveway where we unhooked it. I tinkered with it for a while, then started it and drove it to it's parking place BEHIND the garage. As supportive as my dad had been about this, he wasn't going to give up his parking place in the nice, warm, insulated, heated, dry garage with the concrete floor. My truck was going to be outside in the cold, rainy, windy weather, on the ground.
Honestly, I didn't care. I was just glad to have it home.
No comments:
Post a Comment