I remember Leapin’ as a child. We were all scared to death of it. My Uncle still used it daily to feed silage but it had no side windows. The seat was a wadded up burlap sack on the bare springs. And it wore tire chains year round on single rear tires to make it through the feed pens in the deep Kansas mud. I can personally attest to multiple litters of kittens being born in the truck.
My mom told stories of hauling wheat in it as a high school student and being terrorized at the elevator when they made her ride the lift up to dump it and the old thing would flood out and have to be push started. It was just another old truck back then.
It wasn’t until my uncle sold the farm and I bought Leapin’ out of the chicken coop where it had been up on blocks for 30 years that I learned the whole story.
The 1935 Chevy had been purchased new by my grandfather’s uncle-in-law and had been the farming town’s Texaco fuel truck. Around about 1940 my grandfather bought it. It was painted red with a brush, the frame was cut off (keeping the long wheel base), and a grain box from a scrap 35 was fitted. And it got that name. I learned why later - that clutch is still hair trigger 80 years later. The truck served faithfully for decades, even hauling in the remaining plow horses to the sale in 1954 (of which I proudly keep the picture). In 1963 my grandfather was growing disgusted with it as it was hard to crank start anymore (he was too cheap for a battery) and had a wheel bearing issue of some sort. He gave it to my uncle who had recently started farming for feeding cattle and hauling grain. It will haul 110 bushels of wheat, you know. In 1967 the original 207 received its first and only rebuild to this day.
Fast forward to the day I picked it up. I cringed as my uncle shoved the “old pile of junk” on the semi trailer with the bale spear on his 4020 as oil poured from the back of the engine. “You have to run her two quarts over full on oil or she won’t prime and hold pressure,” he said. As he pulled the dipstick I was horrified to not only see the word “full” completely covered by extra oil, but also viewed the oil which resembled something more akin to unrefined crude. The hood fell off in my hands. The right rear drum was held on with 14 washers and a rusty nail. But it was still in the family. Including the title grandpa had signed over in ‘63 (which I was able to keep due to the truck’s age).
Over the next month or so I was able to rebuild the seat, tune the engine and get it running, starting, and charging like new, put six new tires on it, and uncover more and more history. In digging through the seat springs I found a Texaco Radio Program flag given to stores in the late 30’s, scores of lost pliers in the doors, miles of baling wire holding the truck together and battle scars that often had a family story to go with them. I knew from experience if I were to restore the truck it would never get driven, but if I put it back in good working order it would be used. I replaced the cab wood piece by piece and sorted out cloth wiring long ago abandoned to use the lights again. I have used the truck daily (in all but rain) for the last six years to haul firewood, feed cattle, and move hay. It has started on days below zero and never overheated above 100 degrees. Only once did it leave me with a load of square bales - the fiber cam gear finally gave up. I was lost without if for a week during the busiest season on the farm. I stayed up late to install a new gear I found in Oregon and it has never coughed since. My only creature comfort is the driver’s door I took off years ago. At 6’4” it makes wadding myself up into the little cab a little easier and keeps me from cooking to death most months of the year. No one even offers to help find me a door anymore - they know the original is safely stored in the loft of the machine shed.
Power brakes and heat are nice. Air conditioning and automatic transmissions are good, too. But I give up all of these things each day to hear the truck. I love growl over twice and catch, ready to head down the road to waiting animals and adventures.
Thank you for sharing the history and pics of Leapin" Lena. I hope to see her in person someday.
