I have always had a "thing" about trucks. It probably has something to do with the fact that almost all of my uncles, on both sides, are, or were, in some way, involved with the trucking industry. My grandfather, Joe Brown, started hauling rock, sand, gravel and paving materials our of an old truck way back, and maybe before, WWII, in the 1940's. In 1986, or so, he was awarded, posthumously, by the Governor of the state of Oklahoma, for being one of the "pioneers" of the trucking industry in that state. I went to that award ceremony in Oklahoma City. Mrs. Bekins was there that day as well.
It was a truck just about the size of this one that I have special memories about. I worked in Ardmore, Ok, the summer I was 17 for one of my uncles who ran the mechanic shop for the "Joe Brown, Co." He came in one day and told me to take the transmission out of one of the trucks; one like this one. It took me about three days, because he had told the guys who worked there full time to leave me alone and let me figure it out on my own. Once it was removed the transmission expert worked on it a few days, then I got to re-install it. I learned a lot and it was actually rather fun.
After getting the truck back together, my uncle came in and told me he wanted me to drive it to Madill, OK, to get a load of gravel and haul it up next to Lake Texoma where someone was building a cabin. After getting directions and firing it up, he came over to the truck and told me to be careful of the bed levers to the right of the gear shift. "They're old and they can engage all by themselves and you don't want that to happen." I wasn't sure why, but I heard what he said and drove off into the oaked forest of south-central Oklahoma, all by myself, in that big ol' truck.
I hauled three or four loads of gravel to the lake, then headed back to Ardmore. Out on the highway, and going about 60 mph, I checked my rearview mirror and there was the bed of the truck, standing as tall as it would go, on full "dump." I have always been so glad that the road didn't go under a railroad tressle anywhere along the way where that damned thing would have gotten hung up, or any high wires that might have been hanging low.
It was a great summer. I made $1.15 an hour and came home with just a little over $600 which went into a fund I had been saving up for college.
watercolor, ink, 6x9 Super Aqua Bee Sketchbook