The old red truck. Every little farm needs one. They are sort of like an old farm dog … reliable (sort of – if in the cooperating mood), ready for a drive in the country, don’t mind getting dirty, up for the most recent project and too often neglected.
My old red Ford is 16 years old and has about 8 times its years in miles. It devours gas and antifreeze. My 21-year-old requested for his birthday, when he returned home from college, a full tank of gas and for the truck to not be over-heating … He needed it for opening shotgun deer season. No one had time to drive it town for servicing. Without antifreeze, it doesn’t heat or, even more importantly, defrost! Good ol’ Mom would take it to town.
I attempted to add antifreeze. Make that, I attempted to raise the hood to figure out where to add antifreeze. I couldn’t get the hood up. I set out to work on a cold, frosty morning with a prayer that it wouldn’t over-heat on my drive to town. I told my youngest son to watch for me, stranded along the road, on his way to school. He just shook his head and said, “okaaay.” I also own the world’s-worst windshield scraper. I scritch-scratched a few lines in the frost (my boss later told me it looked like I used my fingernails …) and headed off to work. At intersections, I rolled down the windows, listened and pulled out with a prayer, then returned to monitoring my temperature gauge. We made it to town. The mechanic has hopefully found and repaired the source of the leak; but we’ve been through this before. The truck was gassed up and home in time to haul the rewards of yet another shotgun season out of the timber.
I am currently driving the truck every day as my SUV has repairs made to it. It is everyone’s saving grace at some point or another. It has filled in when other vehicles have had flat tires or dead batteries. It hauls bikes and mowers. When all else fails, throw it in the back of the truck. It can look like a 3D, I Spy.
The old, trusty, farm dog, now prefers to ride his 105 lbs in the front of the truck instead of jumping into the bed. The interior of the truck smells like 105 lbs of old, trusty, farm dog.
The truck makes a funny rattle, spoon-in-the-blender noise upon ignition. I sort of, usually, hate to start it when there are people nearby. Although, occasionally I enjoy the chuckle the startled looks give me.
I have hauled countless kids and animals in that truck. Sometimes in front and sometimes in back. We’ve enjoyed weiner roasts and coolers of cold drinks at fairs from from the tail gate. It was the 1st vehicle for each boy to drive upon reaching the age of 16.
Will I ever be able to part with it? Logic says I should trade in the SUV and sell the old truck and just get one nice truck. Pffft…logic!