Without a pickup

This was taken at our daughter's house shortly after Christmas, 2009.  That's about the time Mother Nature decided it was time to bring real winters back to Missouri, and she's been at it ever since.  


We bought our first pickup in 1969; it was the first new vehicle Cliff ever owned, and it became our sole means of transportation at the time.  That was an exciting time for my husband, whose family had never owned a new vehicle due to a bad credit record.  Many years later, Cliff co-signed with his parents and they finally purchased their first-ever brand new pickup, a Toyota.  
My father-in-law always accused us of having lots of money squirreled away, but all we really had was good credit.        
We had two children when we bought that 1969 Ford Ranger, but back then there were no seat belt or baby car-seat laws, and we made do.  We'd put two-year-old Jimmy between us, often standing up in the seat (hey, don't judge; he survived, didn't he?) and I'd hold the baby, Rachel, on my lap.  Later on, Rachel and Jimmy both sat between us.  If I'm tallying it up right, we've owned five different pickups over the years, only one Chevy in the bunch.  We finally caved in around 1980 and bought an old Plymouth car because the kids were getting big enough that the cab of a pickup just wasn't big enough.  I think from then on, most of the times when we had a pickup, we also had a car.  Two vehicles, even though I never did drive.  But living in the country, a person needs a truck to haul hay and hedge posts and firewood and livestock.  
Cliff drove our old 1988 pickup for the final time last weekend, down to southern Kansas where his brother had a buyer for it.  Even though the truck sat in the garage most of the time, there's a helpless feeling, knowing it's gone.  We'd owned it since 1989, and in two more years it would have been a classic and would never have needed a new license again.    
When Bonnie needs to meet up with a bull next fall, things will be a little more complicated:  we'll have to borrow a pickup in order to hitch up to the livestock trailer so we can take her for a conjugal visit.  The grandson lives nearby, so we can borrow his truck for a day or two and let him drive our car.  That would be our simplest solution.  If Arick's truck isn't available, we'll be driving 25 miles to Cliff's brother's place and borrowing his pickup.  With the price of gas that won't be cheap, but we'll do what we must.  Of course, any time you borrow a vehicle, there's the chance that it will break down, which means whoever is driving it at the time is responsible for repairs; that's always been the rule in this family.  
I'm wondering if Cliff and I should get a reasonably-priced newer pickup (not brand new, ever) and use it as our sole transportation.  It's just the two of us now: you know, trade in the old Mercury...  maybe when we're too old to ride the motorcycle.       
Somehow it just doesn't feel right, not  having a pickup.  

Our old pickup

That Oregon guy often blogs about his pickup, and it got me thinking about our 1988 Ford.

The old truck has been with us through thick and thin. We bought it in 1989, barely used. At that time we didn't think much about what kind of gas mileage it might get, but we were in for a shock: at best, it gets twelve MPG.

These days we only use it when we need to haul something, or pull a trailer. Or, as in the past few days, when we need to get around in the snow and ice. Our Grand Marquis is not front-wheel-drive, and it's pretty much helpless on bad roads.

Our oldest grandson wheedled and begged, a few years ago, for Cliff to sell him the truck. Cliff told him repeatedly he wouldn't be able to afford to drive it, but he persisted, and also promised that any time we needed a truck, we could use it.

Finally Cliff gave in. He didn't make Arick go to a bank for a loan; he just told him to pay a certain amount per month and it would be deducted from the total price (an amount which neither Cliff nor I can remember). He paid faithfully, but after several months, the cost of gasoline for the pickup started to hurt. Cliff mentioned one day that he missed having a truck around when he needed it, and Arick said he'd let us have it back and we could keep the money he'd paid on it if Cliff would co-sign for another truck, a newer one that wouldn't use so much gas.

So, old Brownie was back home. Arick did pay off the loan for which Cliff co-signed, in case you were wondering. But then he would, knowing he'd have me to contend with if he missed a payment.

On the right side, there's considerable rust near the bumper ...

... and above the tire.

There's none on the driver's side because about sixteen years ago, Cliff had a little incident with a trailer, and that part was replaced by insurance. These days we don't keep full coverage on the truck.

I need help getting into it now, thanks to knee problems. The truck is pretty high off the ground.

A neighbor kid keeps offering to pay $3,500 for Old Brownie. I remember how we missed her when Arick had her. Besides, if we were to sell it to a neighbor kid, Cliff would probably feel responsible for every little thing that went wrong with it.

When the truck turns twenty-five, if it lasts that long, it will officially be an antique; we'll get a collector's plate and never buy another license plate again. I say we hang onto it. It really owes us nothing.

A big day for our Ford pickup

There she is, in all her glory: Our 1988 Ford pickup; we bought her used in 1989 with 14,000 miles on her.

Back then, a pickup was a necessity. I was raising bobby calves on milk from my Jersey cows, and we had to have some way to transport the calves to and from our place. Not to mention hauling all the feed required for the animals.

Once I stopped milking and calf-raising, the pickup was used less and less. We always keep a trailer hitch on the family car, and most anything we need to transport can be hauled on one of various trailers around here. The exception is the livestock trailer, which must be pulled with the pickup, of course. The only livestock that's been hauled lately has been Secret, being taken to her romantic (thus far fruitless) trysts.

Still, it's handy to have a pickup. Even one that gets about ten miles per gallon of gas. The old boat now has 112,000 miles on the speedometer.

Ah, but the big news: This year old Brownie is officially a classic! As long as we don't drive her over 1,000 miles in a years time, we will never again have to buy license for her. Why? She's a historic vehicle now, and gets the plates that go with that distinction.

We have to keep her. Who'd buy a truck that gets such lousy mileage, even a classic?