I learned to drive in my dad's '69 Ford pick-up. It looked a lot like this. It didn't look a lot like this. My dad bought it new when he was truck driving on the Alaska Highway project out of Dawson City. We called it "Blue-Clunck". By the time I got into it, it was beaten up and you could see some of the road through a crack in the floor. But I loved driving it. My sister and I in our denim overalls and cowboy boots going to the Co-op to pick up feed. Yes, I was a hayseed.
My dad doesn't like animals much. He milked cows for 30 years.
When I was on my honeymoon, he sold the farm to his little brother and they moved to a house in "town". Seriously, I didn't even know their address when we got back from SanFransisco.
Now we live just down the street. He drives a gravel truck during the day and a kicky pick-up on his own time. It's almost his birthday and I'm hoping to copy this picture to make him a card. He'll probably tell me it's the wrong year, but then, if I'm lucky, I'll get some of the stories from when he was young. He was never foolish, but he has some good stories.
I finished and blocked the pi shawl, but D. bought the wrong battery for my camera, so we'll just have to wait. It's lounging in the living room right now, waiting for its close-up.