My white-knuckle experience wasn't with speed.
My Uncle had a 1960 Chevy 1/2 ton he had used at his sinclair fuel distributor company for years. It sat out beside the barn, registered, but hardly ever used. It was as yellow as the sun and you could still make out the dinosaur on the doors under a couple of resprays. My mom did the books and radioed dispatch to the 2 drivers out delivering fuel in the summer months when my uncle and aunt went on vacation. I lusted after that truck for more years than I did for Janey Fortier, my unbelievably georgeous next door neighbor. Its funny Janey was my first kiss and Uncle Alfred's (AJ to his friends) shop truck was the first stovebolt I ever drove. I've been in love with old trucks and Italian girls, her mother was an Italian beauty, ever sense.
My white-knuckle experience happened the summer of my junior year in college. I borrowed the truck while my mom was on duty and headed for the port of Oswego. That is where a friend was working unloading grain ships and doing odd jobs at the Port Authority. I went to get a load of 4 X 4 cribbing timbers so my friend Ed and I could make lofts for our dorm rooms back at school. The cribbing material was free, if you had access to the pile.
Ed and I loaded up the old 1/2 ton with what looked like an appropriate load and headed off back home. We noticed right away the truck was sitting different and had a certain bounce to it's ride. We thought that meant it still had some suspension travel left and we were good to go.
It was only a mile or two later once we got out of town and away from traffic lights that what was really happening came to light. The truck's load was hanging a good way out the back of the truck. The rear wheels were only slightly ahead of the center of gravity. The rear end of truck was actually acting like a fulcrum and we weren't bouncing nicely down the road, the front wheels were actually lifting off the road as we drove. This light bulb moment came to us as we hit a dip in the road right before a curve. The truck didn't respond to the wheel and we were headed for the ditch. Thank goodness a light touch of the brake brought the front end down and we managed the curve. This continued on and off for the next 10 - 12 miles. By the end of the run it was at least predictable. The first time was kind of wild. A little like Janey.
Well that's it from, the soon to be frozen, Upstate New York.
Bill Schickling
