The Story of a Farm Truck

When I walk out of our front door I see her.  She’s showing her age these days.  Her style doesn’t fit with those around her, her colors aren’t quite as bright as they once were and she could use a bath.  We love her anyway though.  I open the door and it greets me with a disgruntled creak.  I smile as I step up into the cab and see the box of Kleenex on the dash.  It’s been there as long as I can remember.  The tissues inside have probably decomposed by now, but no one bothers to take it off the dash – it’s just part of the truck now.  The inside smells of old smoke and dust – that musty odor that you only find in trucks.  As I insert the key and try to turn it, the truck does nothing.  I have it in backwards – my key is a copy of a copy of an original key and only works on one side making it one of many of the Ford’s “character” traits.  I turn the key over and now the Ford roars to life, its V8 engine still strong and reliable after 208,000 miles.  This is a truck with a story.  Let me share it with you.

The Ford began its life in late 1995 or early 1996.  We don’t know anything about her first owner other than she was traded in on a different truck sometime in 1997.  I was a freshman in college at the time, my parents were divorcing and my dad was looking for a truck.  Freshly armed with unlimited access to the internet, I searched all of northwest Arkansas for a truck meeting Dad’s requirements – had to be the “old” body style (no curvy front end for him), short bed, low miles and in a certain price range.  I found a few trucks matching that description.  On Dad’s next visit, we went car shopping. 

My father and I are a lot alike.  We don’t like shopping.  We are both prone to buying the first thing that meets our needs and is in our price range.  So it was no surprise that we only went to the one dealer and we only looked at the one truck.  She looked a bit different back then.  The inside was spotless and smelled new.  The paint was fresh and everything worked.  She had less than 30,000 miles on her and Dad fell in love.  An hour of paperwork later, she was part of the family.

Over the next 15 years, the Ford participated in a lot of milestones.  It moved Dad twice around my former home town.  It took him to work for his final years before retirement.  It survived my brother’s teenage driving.  It took Dad on many trips to Tulsa to visit his then girlfriend and now wife.  The Ford was there when they got married and it was the Ford that carried my stepmother’s possessions from Tulsa to Pottsville, AR.  Later, it moved their combined belongings from Pottsville to Sallisaw, OK, after Dad retired. 

In Sallisaw, the Ford got to retire a bit too.  It drove to meetings and to “work” at the golf course.  Towed golf carts needing repair and carried any number of golf bags.  It carried soil for a garden along with rail road ties and tools.  When my stepmother’s parents health failed, it was the Ford that moved their belongings from their house to storage and later to Sallisaw.  When friends needed a truck, it was often the Ford who answered the call.  She was always there and always dependable. 

As with all things, that had to end though.  She started showing signs of her age.  The transmission didn’t shift as smoothly as it used to, the driver’s seat belt wore out and had to be replaced (by the middle passenger belt).  Her 200,000+ miles said that she wasn’t going to be worthy of long trips anymore.  It was time for the Ford to move into the final stage of her life – it was time for her to retire too.

Fortunately, this was also the time when we were buying a farm and looking for a farm truck.  We needed something inexpensive, reliable, and able to move materials locally.  After a quick barter, the Ford became our truck and she’s been great.  She hauled a greenhouse from Kansas City to Lawrence and again from Lawrence to the farm.  She’s moved our garden to the farm, brought our trees to the farm, towed the tractor and been absolutely essential to the work we’ve been doing.  We couldn’t have done it without her.

Every time I step up in the cab and hear the engine roar to life, I have to smile to myself and think about how many times some member of my family has turned the key and been answered by 8 cylinders firing.  I think about how many times the Ford has done what we’ve asked of her and how much of our lives she has touched.

Then I think into the future.  I imagine her helping us on the farm - driving slowly through the fields, hauling rocks and timbers to the building site(s), bringing materials from town and eventually helping us move the last of our belongings to the farm.  She may even get to help teach Jacob how to drive (as scary as that seems to me now).  I look forward to many more years of seeing the Ford as I walk out the front door (which ever house that door belongs to).

I also have to look a little farther into the future to a time when I know her service will end.  Nothing lasts forever and the Ford won’t be an exception.  One day, something will go wrong that we will choose not to fix.  One day, she will be done with her working life and will move on to be scrap somewhere.  I can only hope that when that day comes we will send her to her final resting place with respect and appreciation for all she has helped us accomplish and all the memories she has touched along the way. 

Until then, she’ll be here and we’ll be grateful.