We Really Rode In Trucks

If there is one thing that is uniquely American, it is the pick-up truck. From the earliest of days, Americans have relied on their trucks for work and pleasure. While work trucks are still what drives this country, most of us simply enjoy the pleasure of driving a truck. Many are loaded with every available factory option, while others are basic in nature with hand cranks for the windows. Some trucks are jacked up so high you need a ladder to get into them, and still others are so low you cannot help but wonder how everything on the underside survives.

That uniqueness makes the truck a vehicle we all love, and that is truly an American icon.

This love affair with trucks is much of what made this country what it is. In the early dust bowl days, families loaded everything they owned into the back of old trucks we would not even consider driving around to the corner store. Nevertheless, they hauled their belongings and their families down treacherous roads all across this nation. Many of those old trucks did not make it and families settled in the towns where they broke down. Even as they carried their possessions to new states and cities, they also carried hopes and dreams of a better life in those trucks as well.

Since sometime shortly after World War II though, the truck has become a necessity for many Americans and their families. From hauling crops out of the field to hauling groceries home from the supermarket, we love our trucks and use them every day. We have grown accustomed to using our trucks for work during the week and trips to the ballparks on weekends.

From the earliest of ages, I can remember the thrill of riding in trucks. Even now I remember my maternal grandfather’s 1957 blue and white Chevy Cameo pick up with all of its chrome trim, or later his basic 1960 Ford pickup that he would always take me and my brother to Brown’ Grocery in to get penny candy. It was always a thrill to roll the windows down and feel the wind, and try our hardest to control the wind with those little side vent windows. Somehow, I still remember just how uncomfortable the old coil spring seats could be. However, we never cared, because we were riding in a truck.

My paternal grandfather owned large trucks. He had a couple two-ton trucks with the long frames, and they constructed beds for them with high wooden sideboards to secure loads inside. These trucks, which seemed so massive to a young child, were work trucks used for farming and hauling large quantities of crops to market. He also had a smaller truck that had a covered bed to haul workers to the fields as well.

However, the real fun was riding in the back of these big trucks to the fields. On cool spring mornings the wind whipping over the side boards would be so cold we would huddle up at the very front sitting as low as we could to stay warm. Returning from the fields was another matter; many times these trucks were so full that we had to ride on top of the loads. One time I especially remember the load was so tall we had to lie down just to go under the local railroad overpass.

Of course there were others, I remember Uncle Bills cool orange Datsun pickup with the mag wheels, white letter tires, and custom white cap on top of it. There was also Uncle Thomas and his blue GMC ¾ ton that we loved to ride in, mainly because he always drove fast. I can even remember Calvin’s Green Toyota Hi-lux pick up, I always wondered why he bought that color.

Throughout my life, I have owned several pickups as well, and have driven them just about everywhere a human could, in every possible situation, from knee-deep mud and old country roads to the expressways. No matter what, every time I slam the door I still remember what it was like to be young and to ride in trucks.