Pickup Trucks

I drive a pickup truck.  That’s because I’m a man who lives in the south, and  it’s the law. I’ve owned my latest truck for a couple of years now. When I bought it, the only option I was concerned about was the color - it had to be red.   I decided that I needed something that would stand out in a parking lot when I couldn’t find my old silver pickup at the Piggly Wiggly.  Luckily, the salesman at the dealer came up with a pickup in a shade of red that almost glows in the dark. Chevrolet’s correctly calls it “Pull Me Over Red”. 

The first truck I owned was a 1969 Chevy C10 that my father-in-law gifted me.  Looking back, I can clearly see that trucks from that era are nothing like the ones we drive now. Now you can get all kinds of options: fancy leather interiors, dual climate controls, 5 star sound systems, sunroofs, and who knows how many electronic doo-dads. My latest truck even has a seat warmer, which I thought was as useless as a Bible for an atheist - until I used it.  

The ‘69 Chevy was pretty much an engine and 4 tires. There weren’t even basic add-ons like power steering, or a rear seat. Air conditioning?  Ha!  Just  roll the windows down, and made sure the little side vents were facing in. This vehicle didn’t even have an automatic transmission - it was three on the tree, baby!  I suppose you could say it had power brakes, depending on how hard you could stomp down on them. This truck was made to haul stuff, not people. 

And haul stuff we did. In my mid twenties my best buddy and I put the ‘69 to good use, carrying about anything that nearly broke, first-time, homeowners needed.  The list was quite extensive, including firewood that we cut ourselves, scrap sod we bought from a grass farm, and oak leaf hydrangea  we dug up in the woods.  A nearby creek became a source for moss rocks to line our flower beds.  We normally got those in the early spring so we wouldn’t have to share the water with our legless friends. We even filled the pickup bed with pine straw that we raked from the sides of barely paved country roads.  Back then I had more time than money, and that truck saved me a lot of cash. Now, I would worry that the rocks or firewood might scratch the bed of my truck. It wasn’t even a consideration back then. 

When the truck became less than dependable, I sold it. That was probably  a mistake, because I’ve looked on line and discovered the 1969 Chevrolet C10 is a very desirable model for restorers. They are buying these trucks for top dollar and retro fitting them with modern engines, transmissions, and accessories. So they get a classic body style combined with all the comforts and conveniences of a new truck from the showroom.   If I had the guts and money to do that, I could have probably driven the truck for several years, and then sold it at a nice profit.  Yeah, and I could’ve bought Apple stock for $12 a share too. 

Nowadays, my truck is more of a means of transportation for people than a vehicle to haul things. Oh, I’ll pick up a few 2x4’s, or carry an accent table to a friend.  I’ll even let my sons borrow it.  But if I need something like firewood, sod, or landscaping rocks, I’ll buy it and have someone deliver the load  to my house. I’ve wisely discovered that whatever money I saved doing it myself would be spent on the copays to my chiropractor, X Rays, and physical therapy.  That’s not to say I don’t have fond memories of getting up at 5:30 on an early summer morning and driving to a grass farm to be the first people in line to get scrap sod. It’s just something else that old age takes away from you. Fortunately for me, it also took away the desire to do it. 

I just paused writing to answer the doorbell. Ironically, it was the guy who mows my lawn asking me if I needed any pine straw around my shrubs.  I looked on the street and saw his old beat up truck, brimming over with pine straw. Not store bought bales - he had obviously raked it up himself. 

I smiled to myself and wondered if he got it from the same little roads as I once did.