My attachment to old trucks is elemental. As my Dad was graduating college, with plans to teach math and music, his father hurt his back. Grandpa was a Southern Baptist revival preacher and ran an annual circuit through Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico. Right after I was born, we packed up and joined what my mother later referred to as "The Circus."
My Dad took over the 1949 1 1/2 Ton GMC Stakebed, which had an upright piano bolted up behind the cab, and carried the tent, folding chairs and all the other necessities. Grandpa had traditionally done everything himself, with volunteer labor from the local congregations, and either slept in the tent or in someone's guest room. Things changed when we joined the troupe. Grandpa bought a Cadillac and drove ahead to get things organized for our next stop. He also pulled a travel trailer to provide another option for accommodations. For the next five years, we traveled the 1,500 mile circuit with him. When I had to start school, Grandpa retired and my Dad started his teaching career.
So, my earliest memories are centered in the cab of that old truck. Every evening, we'd gather in the cab and listen to radio programs. My parents divorced when I was 10, but my Dad kept that truck and I spent my 16th summer with him. I took my drivers license test in the same truck I'd had my diaper changed in.
If this was a perfect world, my Dad would still have that old truck and I could restore it. No such luck, so I'm looking for a project.
