Ryan’s submit yesterday about the 1955-56 Ford truck nameplates reminded me of the previous ’56 Ford F100 I owned nicely around 20 yrs back. It was practically nothing exclusive or unusual- A compact rear window, straight 6, 3-on-the-tree, shorter mattress in a terrible metallic brown. Her nickname was ‘Uncle Jesse’, following the previous male Jesse Duke’s rig on a certain Television exhibit, even although my Ford appeared almost nothing like his. On a sunny working day in the park at Crusin’ Paso Robles in 1999, some talented child who couldn’t have been much more than 12 or 13 yrs aged supplied to lay out flames on the entrance fender with masking tape, just for kicks (Those people spontaneous and rad matters utilized to come about at Paso back again then, but I digress). The tape styles came out so good that I had the young gentleman mask out flame licks all the way down every fender of the truck and proceeded to hand him all the pocket cash I experienced. Again property, a buddy of mine hand-striped the line operate out with A person Shot, pinstriped the taillights, and threw a Traveling Eyeball on the back, just for kicks. The ol’ F100 was even now poop brown, but at least the black flames and white striping built it glance midway cool.
A pretty small even though later, I achieved the lady who would develop into my wife. Appropriate ahead of our to start with precise date, I recognized the truck had no seatbelts so I promptly ordered some JC Whitney ‘aircraft’ belts in poop beige and spent the night time before our rendezvous setting up them. We drove the F100 up to Petaluma in the rain, safely and securely buckled in, wipers going aspect to aspect to the beat of the songs actively playing the taxi, just laughing and obtaining the finest time at any time. Many thanks Uncle Jesse.