Always been a truck kinda guy....

[avalancher]

As I spent some time at the workbench this afternoon, I happened to glance out the window and for the hundredth time noticed my old truck from my college days, sitting there like an old dog waiting for our next adventure together, and I reminded me of the last time I sat behind her wheel…..


We have all had those trucks I our lives, the ones that no matter how many we had since we have never forgotten that “one” truck. We gave it a name, trusted it with our lives, and would kill if someone leaned on it too hard.

Back in my college days, I had such a truck. It was an ugly thing, a moron with ten thumbs had seen to that with sixty cans of Krylon, but I still loved that hunk of junk. Like any truck, it had to have a name, and being short on imagination and the proper etiquette in truck naming, I named her Skippy.Now Skippy and I had an agreement. I would wash her, wax her, change the oil with the best products on the market and she would choose the time and place to reward my devotion by breaking down at the worst possible moment.

The day before Christmas several years ago, Skippy and I were pressed into action at the request of my mother. Mom had a elderly friend that dearly wanted to spend time with her family in the Cascade mountains, just east of Seattle. The weather was bad, roads were near impassable, and the general consensus was that maybe the old lady might have to spend her holiday by herself this year. My mother however assured her that if anyone could get through, it was me behind the wheel of Skippy.
Early that afternoon, I picked up what I will refer to from here on as “my old lady” and her pet parakeet Ralphy from her home in Washougal Washington and headed north. The roads were gentle and fair as we made our way to Seattle, turning harsh and cold as we headed east up into the mountains.

Finally we approached what looked like a traffic jam and mother nature descended upon us with a fury. Traffic stopped, and I began to wonder if this trip was such a good idea. Moving along at a snails pace, we finally came to a stop, a scant hundred yards past the off ramp to what looked like a good sized town. As I sat there cursing under my breath and wondering what the $@!#&$%#@ was the holdup, I happened to glance at my passenger. My old lady was fast asleep.

As I looked around, I noted with glee the gentle grass slope that ran up from the highway up to the off ramp that we had passed. Easy enough for a truck in 4wd, especially of Skippy’s caliber. Nudging my old lady awake, I gave her the fair warning of, “Hang on!” Simultaneously with the skill of a fighter pilot, I dropped the gear selector in 4wd, swerved around the car in front of me, and dropped the hammer.

Now when Ford built that truck, they made plenty of places to hang on. Door grabs, arm rests, even the dash looked like a pretty good place to hang on. My old lady chose none of them but elected instead to heave her arms around my neck and commenced to carry out a tune that made all dogs within 16 miles go deaf on the spot. Shoot, I was having a hard time hearing myself over the ruckus granny was cranking out.

 

[avalancher]

Page two

As we scratched and clawed our way up the hill, I did my best to not only console the old gal, but also extricate myself from her death grip, but it was of little use. My old lady was convinced that we were going to die on the spot, and she was not only determined to take me with her but let the whole world know that she was at deaths door.

As we crested the hill, I noted with horror I had failed to take into account several factors. The speed that we were traveling, the guard rail separating us from the off ramp, and the state patrol officer sitting on the off ramp.

I have the highest regard for law enforcement, I really do, but I had no desire to explain myself at that moment. Swinging past the astonished officer with a friendly wave I had a choice to make. Run on down the length of the guard rail out on to the road and back past the officer, swing back around and try and blend back into traffic, or head down the highway and find another way off this god forsaken highway. Seemed like an easy choice to me.

Barreling down alongside the highway, my old lady firmly attached to my windpipe, Ralphy screeching and cussing in parakeet from the backseat and everything loose flying about the truck like a scene from “Twister” I spotted my escape route; the on ramp back on to the highway. Cresting the hill proudly with engine and old lady screaming like a hyena strung out on cheap cough syrup, we had our escape within our grasp. But Skippy had enough, and decided to once again remind me of who was the boss around here. Just as our tires hit pavement, she gave up a backfire and died on the spot.

I was doing my best to pry the fingers away from my windpipe, when all hell broke loose. My old woman sat back, eyes wide and glaring and proceeded to lose the burgers I had thoughtfully bought her a few exits back. Her aim was really pretty good, within the first few seconds she managed to coax out a great deal of hamburger all over my nice new Levis, followed by a healthy helping of strawberry milkshake all over my sweatshirt.

Now all of this really would have been bad enough, but in true jailbird fashion old Ralphy discovered the damage to his cage and decided to make a break for it. Where he thought he was going, I have no idea, but being a bird I’m sure that really wasn’t important at the time. Sadly, in his haste to make his exit, he instead made a crash landing on my lap that would have made a Japanese kamikaze pilot proud.

Now, I’m not accustomed to birds. Experts later told me that I should have used calming words and slow movement, but I’m not sure if that would have applied to a ticked off bird covered in strawberry milkshake sitting on your privates. I was pretty sure at that point that Ralphy was aware of who had been responsible for his wild ride and was about to commit me to singing in soprano for the rest of my life and all I wanted was to secure Ralphy. As we engaged in a bitter brawl, my old woman exercised her right to bash my brains in with her Christmas presents to her family. I later learned that she was Italian, which further explained why she was giving lead pipes for presents.

Just as I assumed that things couldn’t really get any worse, the entire world lit up around us and I truly wondered if we were being attacked by E.T. himself. Within seconds I reckon we had 97 police cars doing their very best impression of Hill Street Blues as they swarmed around us, and I really began to regret that king sized burrito I had inhaled an hour ago.

Now in all honesty, I really don’t fault the first officer that was brave enough to approach my window. Im sure in the police academy they train officers to deal with every scenario known to man besides what he found when he finally managed to shine his flashlight in my window. As his eyebrows began a slow but steady crawl up his forehead, his flashlight beam became a little shaky, and I really thought that maybe he wasn’t feeling alright. Brushing the feathers and milkshake off my face, I rolled down my window and prepared myself for a lengthy explanation when Ralphy saved me from a long winded discussion

I reckon that window being rolled down was an invitation that Ralphy couldn’t pass up. I just wish he had filed a better flight plan before he took off, and avoided plowing into an already startled and uptight state patrol officer. As Ralphy made good on his escape, my old woman commenced to remind me just how hard those Christmas presents really were, and the poor cop hit the ground trying to escape a remake of “The Birds”.

I really don’t remember much about the rest of that scene, it all became rather blurry after that as the rest of the entire Washington State Patrol descended on me. Luckily, the first thing they did was disarm my old woman of her lead pipe collection/Christmas presents as they wrestled her out of the truck. As for me, I reckon they had never seen anyone covered head to toe with hamburger, milkshake, and bird feathers because it was only with great reluctance did one of them cuff me and stuff me in the back of their cruiser.

After that fateful day I never did see my old woman again, although I did hear plenty about her from my mother in the years that followed that fateful evening. From what I understand, my old woman did make it to her family for Christmas, although as I understand it she spent most of her time there in a drug induced stupor. I reckon being stripped of her lead pipe collection no doubt had lasting effects on the old gal.

As I gaze out the window at my old truck, I cant help but remember all the times we had together. The dent in the door from a very upset Emu, the melted front bumper trim from…well, I guess THAT is another story.

 

[StihlyinEly]

Good story. I have nearly instant truck loyalty that's hard to shake. Which is why I keep putting $ into my trusty ole 1985 Silverado heavy half 4x4.

There's a very nice '70s IH Scout for sale locally. Clean, good rubber. I keep wanting to go over and get a price on it, 'cause those Internationals are TOUGH, and I could sell the Silvie and get a trailer to haul with the Scout.

But every time I get in the pickup to go down and check out the Scout, I feel guilty and change my mind. And, well, the Scout IS orange. My wife thinks I'm daft. I tell her: "Honey, it's a GOOD kind of crazy!"

 

[Steve NW WI]

Av, around here, the term "Hang on!" is considered fair warning, as long as you start yelling it before the rear wheels clear the pavement. There's plenty of "short cuts" around for those with ground clearance, traction, and testicular fortitude to attempt it. Out of towners sometimes have a hard time with this, but usually get over it as soon as the bump on top of their heads starts receding.

Stihly, does the term "BOTH" mean anything to you? I mean, a man needs a truck, with a real box on the back, but nothing says "Born to Hunt" like a blaze orange Scout. I had a 69 'Binder pickemup for a spell, the only bad part about it was the fact that due to rust the cab was more of a vague boundary than an enclosure...

Favorite truck was a '76 K20 Chev, but a half full milk truck trying to stop at an icy downhill intersection put that truck out to pasture for good.

 

[StihlyinEly]

Stihly, does the term "BOTH" mean anything to you? I mean, a man needs a truck, with a real box on the back, but nothing says "Born to Hunt" like a blaze orange Scout. I had a 69 'Binder pickemup for a spell, the only bad part about it was the fact that due to rust the cab was more of a vague boundary than an enclosure...

Yeah, yeah. It's got a white top, too. So there I'd be running my creamsicle saws around in a creamsicle Scout. I think a Stihl sticker on the rear window would go just right. Some things are too good to be true. Probably it's got a new motor and tranny and they're asking $6,000 or something. But I'll go see.

Favorite truck was a '76 K20 Chev, but a half full milk truck trying to stop at an icy downhill intersection put that truck out to pasture for good.

One of my faves, after the white '69 Chevy Cheyenne (straight six, three on the tree), was a 1976 Ford f250 with four doors, full 8-foot bed, 2WD. I used it for the tree service, and she was a wee beastie! Next favorite was the 1968 International Travellall I drove up in the Colorado rockies when I worked for the gold mine near Cripple Creek. Had a 345 in her and a 5-speed manual on the floor. Was only 2WD, but had a Posi rear end and 1st was geared so slow you could walk faster than you could drive. That durn thing went places NO 4x4 pickup could go. Plus, it looked A LOT like a biker's ride.

Sigh. Don't get me talking about trucks.

 

[cableguy256]

Very good story ya got there Av. I have a ton of them about my first truck, which was by far my favorite so far and I hate to admit but it was a Toyota Tacoma. 2.4l 4cyl 4x4 5spd. I LOVED that truck... it mighta been small, but that thing was a TANK off-road and in the snow. still to this day I tell everyone that even if I bought my dodge, I shoulda never traded my taco' in on it.. shoulda kept the thing. one the nicer things about that truck vs. my dodge......... it was a stick shift so the wife wouldn't drive it! heh heh.

One of the quick stories I remember.. I went with my dad to Lowes one day to haul some stuff for him.... we ended up putting 12 4x8 sheets of 3/4" drywall, and 10 sheets of 4x8 OSB, along with along with multiple boxes of nails and screws, 3 5 gallon buckets of paint and 2 5 gallon buckets of primer... now, on the trip back to his house, there is a pretty good sized hill.. the whole way home (aobut 20 miles) he kept saying "This thing is never going to get up Rt.8 hill.. we're going to have to call your brother to come get half this stuff.... it'll never make it...."... well, with a smile on my face as we approached the hill, I pulled through the stop and the ol' yota never skipped a beat! I might notta been able to steer cause the front tires were about off the ground, but the old girl just chugged right on up the hill.... the look on my dads' face was classic!

Here's my baby the day before I traded her in...

 

[StihlyinEly]

Very good story ya got there Av. I have a ton of them about my first truck, which was by far my favorite so far and I hate to admit but it was a Toyota Tacoma. 2.4l 4cyl 4x4 5spd. I LOVED that truck... it mighta been small, but that thing was a TANK off-road and in the snow.

Been there, drove that exact same truck. Since I hooked up with my wife 13 years ago, it's been all Toyota all the time except for the Chev. They run forever. Parts are dear, but they need parts so rarely it's not much of an issue. And those 4- and 6-cyl Toyota motors are so torquey it's a pleasure to run them.

I drove an '86 Tacoma SR5 with 22R 4-cyl and loved the lil gal. Had new BF Goodrich off-roads on it. Mmmmmm, nice! Just sold an '89 4Runner (V6) last summer with 276,000 miles on it, and still plenty of poop under the hood, for $800, and my wife drives a '92 4Runner with 170,000 on it, so that one's barely broken in.

Geez, cableguy, which year was that model, and how many miles on it. You traded it in . . . why?

 

[cableguy256]

Been there, drove that exact same truck. Since I hooked up with my wife 13 years ago, it's been all Toyota all the time except for the Chev. They run forever. Parts are dear, but they need parts so rarely it's not much of an issue.

I drove an '86 Tacoma SR5 and loved the lil gal. Just sold an '89 4Runner (V6) last summer with 276,000 miles on it, and still plenty of poop under the hood, for $800, and my wife drives a '92 4Runner with 170,000 on it, so that one's barely broken in.

Just added a couple pics.. take a look at my last post.. sorry if their too big. I was proud of that truck.... and the cool part, when i bought it, the drivers side headlight was pushed under the dash... it was totalled and me and my dad redid it.

 

[StihlyinEly]

I added a coupla comments and a question to my post, as well.

 

[cableguy256]

lol.. it was a '97.. bought it in '98, had 14k miles on it and when i traded it *cold chills* it had 119k on it... made quite a few trips to myrtle beach in her which is about 1400 miles total. remember one year, we (me and my gf) got stuck in traffic at a stand-still for almost 3hrs... and the dang thing didn't have ac.. lol.. she was whining worse than a fat kid when he realizes all the doughnuts are gone!

 

[Circle B MN]

I've always owned trucks. Had most every make and model. Some were a lot nicer than others. I've settled these days with two Dodge Diesels. The 2500 is 4WD ext cab, nice and clean. The old black dually, is solid, but lacks a little in looks. The rear bumper, portions of the exhaust, and various other items are in the process of returning themselves to what they came from, dirt and perhaps a little iron ore. Not the engine though, there's enough oil on it to protect it for years. I don't know who left that that old one gang disc in the tall grass, but my right door was nice enought to find it for them. Clear coat chipping off the fenders..? Rhino line them of course, but the cheap spray on stuff from Napa will save you a few bucks until the first time you take it to the car wash. Couple that with the classic maroon interior covered in dog hair, and you have yourself one sweet daily driving wood hauler.....

 

[mtfallsmikey]

Here's a nice combo....

 

[Beefie]

Another clasic tale from are story teller Avalancher. Makes me think back to my first 4X4 truck , A Dodge W150 standard cab 8' box 4spd with a first gear granny. Boy I miss that truck , Had a lot of good memories in that truck with some high school GF's.

Beefie

 

[luvsaws]

Another clasic tale from are story teller Avalancher. Makes me think back to my first 4X4 truck , A Dodge W150 standard cab 8' box 4spd with a first gear granny. Boy I miss that truck , Had a lot of good memories in that truck with some high school GF's.

Beefie

:agree2:
My first was a 77 chevy short box, the memories
I have never owned anything but a truck(wife has had a couple cars)But I will always have a truck!

 

[RVALUE]

Another clasic tale from are story teller Avalancher. Makes me think back to my first 4X4 truck , A Dodge W150 standard cab 8' box 4spd with a first gear granny. Boy I miss that truck , Had a lot of good memories in that truck with some high school GF's.

Beefie

Your GF's cut wood?