Remember this post – my family is a lover of old things, especially my dad. From vintage knick knacks, posters, antique furniture to classic cars. For as long as I can remember, my dad has wanted a vintage truck, and for the past ten years he has hunted for an old red Chevy. Ladies, ya know when you’re checking out the sales on Victoria Secret or JCrew – my dad (and Sam) are always googling at cars on ebay. (I just don’t get it.) Anyway, my dad has come close to buying several, but there was always a minor detail that meant the car wasn’t for him.
My father is a funny guy – one day he is whining he will never get his truck, the next day there is a bright shinny truck sitting in the drive way. I’m very excited for my dad, and I’m sure you would be too if you saw his childlike-giddy face when he is behind the wheel of his new prize.
Personally, I’m not a fan of American cars at least not the ones driving out of today’s factories (no offense, but I just wouldn’t be caught dead driving one). However, my dad’s old truck has been well kept – restored to its original glory – no added extras to make it faster or louder or perform well. The truck is straight off the factory from 1966 with only 83K original miles — it purrs like a kitten, maybe a big kitten, but nonetheless it’s marvelous. The truck came with it’s original owner’s manual and a black and white picture from it’s hay day.
Trucks back in the day were primal — no power steering or brakes — no seat belts — and only three gears. I don’t know about your car, but my MINI has buttons galore. It’s been two years, and I still can’t figure out how the damn windshield wipers operate. In an old Chevy its simple — if you need to switch your high beams on, there is a little button on the floor you can hit with your left foot. There is a vent on the floor that you can open to let fresh air in– also known as “AC,” and the bed of the truck is made from beautiful wooden planks, which is just about the only destructible piece of material on the vehicle. The rest is 100% metal – no cheap plastic here folks. 
As you can see, when my dad goes back in time, he goes all the way back – and he does it in style. Leave it to him to find the one AM radio station that plays classic songs from the fifties complete with the crackling noise in the background. This past Sunday my dear old dad took Sam and I for spin, and all I can say is the fancy truck took me back – and I’m a product of the 80’s.
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