When I was twelve years old, I went with my Papa to B &H Motors. the Ford dealership in our home town, That day he bought a new tan colored f100 pickup truck. After a few years passed, he would let me drive it sometimes. We lived close to Papa, just down the dirt road. I would take it to my house and wash and wax it just to see him smile when I brought it back. If anything broke or it needed anything, he would only let me work on it. He couldn’t hear very well and tried to start it up while it was already running. That was my first real big job. He said If I couldn’t fix it, It could sit there under that tree and rust away. So I got to work and took out the drive shaft and transmission and replaced the gear on the flywheel. I had a lot of trouble getting that transmission shaft back in while holding it on my chest while I lay in the dirt, but I got it back together.
After I had married and moved about 25 miles away, Papa’s health went down and he passed away. He left the truck to my Mother who gave it to my younger brother because he needed something to drive. He owned it until he was killed in a hunting accident in 2001. I won’t say much about that except it was a hard time for all of us. His wife ask me if I would like to have the truck. Of course I said yes.
I started trying to fix it up, but hard times keep coming. I got it running again and had it painted but time and the sun have damaged the new paint some.
I’ve just recently started working on it again. The Title is still in my brother’s name. I’ve got to get it transferred into my name and I’ll be ready to drive it on the road again soon I hope. Wish me Luck.