Nice story Richard

I sold my '69 ½Ton Chevy Sunday. In a way I was happy and at the same time couldn't help but be bummed. It had gotten to the point where I only drove it a few times a year. I couldn't stand to see it rot another winter.

My uncle bought it new and sold it to my dad to my Dad in '74. By 1980 the motor was really tired.

In high school I had '67 Chevelle. I had rebuilt the 327 in ’81. Whenever I walk up the long concrete stairway to my Mom’s house I remember straddling that engine with a chain bolted from one side of the intake manifold to the other, lifting it one step at a time until I got it into the basement were I could work on it. (Those were the days!)

My Chevelle had far more rust than I could deal with so I ended up dropping the 327 into the CST. My Dad gave me the truck with the condition that he could use it whenever he wanted to. I drove it while still in high school and soon learned to appreciate that big bench seat. In my Chevelle I had the awkward experience of explaining to the cops what my girlfriend and I were doing in the backseat down a darkened dead end road. No such problem with the truck.

Somewhere around 1991 (92?) we had one hell of a snowstorm in Seattle. It hit about 2:00 PM and dumped 5” right away. Well, people in Seattle can’t drive in the snow anyway so it didn’t help much that everyone left work at the same time. I loaded about 500 lbs of rock over the rear axle and headed out to make my way home at about 4:00 pm and got two miles from the shop when Hwy 9 came to a stand still. I could see two cars spun out and three more in the ditch. Screw this I thought, turned around in the middle of the road and when back into Woodinville and Had dinner and two pots of coffee at Sherri’s. They showed on the News that people were stopping their cars in the middle of the 520 floating bridge and walking home. What added to the mess is people were running out of gas waiting for traffic to clear.

It was dark by the time it got back on the road and tried to get on Hwy 522. It had a short curving entry ramp that spit you out under an overpass at the bottom of a long hill. Well what do you think was at the bottom of the ramp/base of the hill? Your right, a fellow motorist with her ass end partially in a ditch spinning her tires blocking my run at the hill. I put the truck in park, walk down the ramp, push her until she’s out of the ditch all the while a few more fellow motorist behind me sat on their asses honking. I just took it as applause.

Well there is more to this story but it’s grown much longer than anticipated. I had a couple of offers for my truck where they were only interested in parts. Even though it had far more rust than my Chevelle, I couldn’t bare to see it parted. I finally found I guy that is going to restore it and will give me first shot if he ever sells it.

Your right Richard, As far as memories go, Pickups are heavy haulers……

(Sorry about your Dad)