I have a new truck. It’s 40-years old and drop-dead, head-turning gorgeous, and I’m not blowing smoke.
She’s a 1972 Chevrolet Camper Special, 8 cylinder 350 engine, 8-ft bed, all original parts, paint, etc. It’s spotless. I think it spent its first night outdoors last night…and only because I haven’t figured out how to get it in the garage yet. That part’s gonna take work and some fancy maneuvering.
Last evening, I drove my new pickup truck home from Indianapolis, and I had some time to discover why I love it and why I was not satisfied as I tested the newer-model pickups. I listened to my gut, and my gut told me I needed this one.
- There is no A/C. So I get to hang my arm out the window and feel the breeze. And I can talk with people who admire it at stop lights.
- But there are two awesome vents…just pull a black knob that pulls a long lever, and two big baffles open up to allow steady rush of wind all over my feet and legs.
- After a rain, this breeze of which I speak is simply glorious.
- No power windows. Just roll them up and roll them down. No problemo.
- Oh, but there are some beautifully tall and wide side mirrors. Very sweet.
- No automatic door locks. Which means I’ll probably lock it less…if at all.
- Which means I’ll probably stop hauling a bunch of stuff that I think needs protection.
- I mean, please. Why on earth do I need to carry stuff that I have to worry about?
- I just want to get in my clutter-free pickup and drive it.
- The radio doesn’t work, so there’s no news, no noise, no disturbances. I can think without interference as I drive.
- There’s no power outlet, so I can’t plug anything in. Again, no disturbances, no distractions.
- I’ll want to stay off of my phone while I’m in the car because I can’t recharge it as I go. Brilliant. Brilliant. Brilliant.
- And there is no Bluetooth…I consider Bluetooth the work of the devil. It is responsible for the demise of our society.
- So if I don’t call you right back, Reader, I may be driving in my truck.
- There’s no cup holder. Which means fewer messes and fewer places to gunk things up.
- Of course, because of the no-A/C part, I’ll want some bottled water on the seat with me.
- There is a long and sturdy bench seat. And it’s spotless. Did I say “all original”? Yes. I did. It is. Even the upholstery.
- And this bench seat does not sag. It hasn’t been driven enough over its 40 years to sink. It seems glad to have me.
- Bench seats are friendly and simple. The dog can ride up front with me and Deb.
- The steering wheel doesn’t have every control known to man installed right on it.
- It’s a simple, skinny, tough steering wheel, and it’s big and wide. My hands look good holding onto it. I admired them the 2 hours from Indianapolis.
- Right smack dab in the middle of the steering wheel is a horn. It gives a deep and strong call. It doesn’t beep. It doesn’t honk. It sings. It sounds like my dog, Murphy, when it sings…it’s a baritone. I wish you could hear it.