This time, we bought our friend/farrier's (farrier = blacksmith. Horse-shoer.He trims our horse's feet and puts shoes on them...) old truck. This truck was a classic. It was one of those older model Chevy trucks, and they had tricked it out. Candy apple red paint job; the shiny metallic candy apple red. All kinds of little bells and whistles. Lowered down a few inches. His daughter Mandy had driven it in high school and they were selling it because she was working in town and needed something better on gas. So I ended up with it.
I used to get so much (unwanted) attention in that truck.... gas pumps, bank line, parking lots at stores... truck lovers would ask me all kinds of questions about it; including if it was for sale. And it wasn't. I think my Dad loved the truck more than me, in fact. He loves classic vehicles.
Once, I drove through a gateway at the farm and scraped the door. Dad was so upset... not mad, just upset. So he took it to a body shop and had them buff the scrape out and wax it that same week.
One day, I jumped in the truck and headed off to the feed store in town. Leaving town, there is a long, gradually inclining hill. I was driving up that hill when suddenly there was a loud clanging and thudding noise and the truck just quit right there in the middle of four lanes of traffic. I got as far over to the side of the road as I could, and put it in park so I could find my phone and call home for rescue. But when I took my foot off the brake.... the truck started rolling backwards down the hill into oncoming traffic. I stomped on the brake as hard as I could and scrambled for my phone. I called up and Dad was there!
"Dad!" I said. "Something happened and the truck just quit and it's rolling down the hill even in park!"
My parent's house is about 25 minutes from town, and the whole time I was waiting I was pressing my foot as hard as I could on the brake. After a little while my leg stated getting tired, and I was switching feet on the brake pedal, hoping I didn't loose all my strength, sending me rolling backwards down the hill into all that traffic.
Before Dad got there, some other guys stopped, because they thought I was ill or something. I explained that If I took my foot off the brake pedal at all the truck rolled back, so one guy took a look underneath my truck, and made several loud exclamations. He said my drive shaft had broken at the universal joint and was wrapped around my new exhaust system I had just paid to have installed. Which explained the rolling .... even in park. It was an older truck, after all. None of today's high tech safety stuff.
A policeman showed up; for which I was grateful. I was beginning to wonder if someone was going to run over me, sitting in the middle of traffic like that. With Popo there maybe I wouldn't get run over after all.
Dad and mom came, and Dad called for a roll back tow truck. Then I very carefully slid out of the driver's seat while Dad slid in, so there was no rolling backwards. The policeman and the other guys that had stopped pushed the truck the rest of the way up the hill. The truck got towed to a shop and eventually they found a part (apparently it can be hard to find parts for classic trucks).
When I finally got the truck back, it came with an offer.........
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