I remember as a little girl the day when my Daddy came home with a new-to-us pickup truck. He came speeding down the hill toward our house and was honking the horn and grinning from-ear-to-ear the entire way down that hill. Mama and I heard the ruckus and ran to the front yard to see what was going on. As soon as he pulled into the driveway, we hopped in and he drove us around a bit. Then, when we got back in the yard, I climbed all over it inspecting every square inch. We were all so excited about that little red truck!
It was a well-loved vehicle when Daddy got it and he kept it for several years after that. I remember climbing into the back of it to fill milk cans with water. We would haul the water up to our old wooden milk barn when we first moved to the farm where I grew up. I can see it and the rusty fenders in my mind's eye but I couldn't tell you much more about it - not even what make and model it was.
When we cleared out all of Daddy's farming equipment a couple of years ago, one item did not go on the auction block - Daddy's 1969 pickup truck. We talked Mama into keeping it just in case she needed a truck for hauling something around that wouldn't fit into her SUV. It was rarely driven, though and was just something else for Mama to try to take care of. She recently asked, once again, if one of us would take it and take care of it. So, it made the way over here to our house. It was parked in the hay barn and sat there for the past couple of weeks.
Earlier this week I took some time to check into getting everything about it squared away. I called the local insurance office and learned that it is considered a 'Classic Vehicle' and requires a bit of extra information when it comes to insurance coverage. So, I did my homework to find out all the info I needed. First, I Googled 1969 Ford Half-Ton Pickup to see if I could find something similar to put a value on it. My expectation was that it would be worth two-to-three-thousand-dollars. Boy, was I surprised to learn that I was dramatically incorrect!
The insurance company asked me to send them several photos showing the outside condition of the truck and the motor. Knowing that I didn't want to send them photos with dust and pollen coating the truck, I gave him a bath. Then, I pulled him out into the lot and used my phone to take a few photos. I emailed them to the insurance agent and checked to make certain that all I needed from that point was to provide them with a check and sign the policy paperwork.
A short trip down the road and a quick signature and this little red truck is now protected. The insurance agent was amazed at the condition of the truck, knowing that the Ranger had been Daddy's farm vehicle. The agent could hardly believe that the Ranger only has a bit over 91,000 actual miles on him. I told him that it was probably the newest truck Daddy ever bought. I think there were less than ten miles on him when he picked him up from the dealership. I also think Daddy was just as excited about getting that truck as he was that little red truck years earlier.
Years later, Daddy got a ton pickup truck to use as the farm vehicle and for pulling a cattle trailer loaded with show cows. This little red truck became our mode of transportation for my sister and I to get to and from school. Then, after Daddy retired, he spent a bit of time replacing some chrome pieces on this little red truck and returning him to close-to-new condition. He got antique tags for him and the Ranger became his folly, only to be driven for short joy rides.
Now the Ranger has become my responsibility. I noticed that the cap for the windshield washer fluid is missing. So, Mike and I will be on the hunt for that soon. There is a bit more cleaning that needs to take place as well. I don't think I should leave loose grass and the remains of a dirt-dauber nest on him.
As I was rinsing out the bed of the truck, I thought about how many times I had ridden on those fenders and how my own children had also logged miles through the fields of the farm perched on those same humps with their hair blowing in the breeze.
This little red truck carries more than his own share of memories but he also hauls around memories of that other little red one that came before him. I was very tempted to honk the horn and speed down the hill when I pulled him out of the barn to get ready for photos.
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