"Old Blue"

I have to preface these posts with one about “Old Blue.”

“Old Blue” is a truck. Not just any run of the mill truck but instead a thing of mechanical beauty – rust spots and all.  “Old Blue” is a blue (duh!) 1986 Ford F350, dual-tank diesel, 4 door, manual transmission, long-bed behemoth of a girl who will not get anywhere quickly, but she will pull a house off its foundation in the process of going!  It takes the proverbial football field to turn that lady around in.  She is pushy, loud and takes up space.  Oh, wait – that’s me.  No, it’s her. No, wait…  Oh hell, not sure – I guess it is both of us.  Blue is roomy (unlike me)!  Two (count them) two large bench seats. Any human I know can sit in the back seat and their knees come nowhere near touching the front seat-back.

My cousin-by-marriage, Wiley, bought her new back in the day. He ordered her special out of Canada because Ford had just had some form of union issue in the US and he was worried about the craftsmanship. I always liked the truck - even though I hated Fords at the time. I had planned on telling him if he ever wanted to sell her to let me know.  Unfortunately, he passed away before I ever remembered to tell him.  I miss Wiley nearly as much as I miss my Dad.  I ended up buying it from my cousin Charline, his wife. This purchase was coupled with the old boat – and the prompter of this blog.

As it turns out, Blue needed a new vacuum canister (yea, try to find one of THOSE for an ’85 Ford truck), batteries (it takes two), A/C work, a new muffler, new plugs and her speedometer and odometer did not work. Lucky for me I have a friend who is “Mr. Ford” and was able to replace the gear needed to make the speed and mileage run right and who could replace the glo-plugs without sending me to the poor house.  We replaced the batteries. The rest will come in good time.  I personally hate loud cars – but the truck just sounds right as she is. The A/C is only a problem when it rains (fogging issue) or if I want to keep my hair looking nice (55/4 is windy you know!).  The vacuum canister was “repaired” by the now ex-husband who thought liqui-weld was appropriate…  ‘Nough said there.

Anywho – Wiley would have enjoyed watching me drive Blue about town, cursing the congested city streets and their small size.  At that point he would be assured that I was, in fact, related to his wife, my cousin, Charline.  No matter where Blue is driven, it is entertaining to notice how many drivers avoid a wild haired woman in a truck of that size and age.  Blue has just enough rust to indicate I am unconcerned with whether or not I bump their little vehicles.  There are also the occasional man stares…  That’s right – “I” am driving this truck. A woman. I drive her – and make no mistake – she is woman –both truck and driver.  And no, you cannot buy either one. You can stare, drool, cat-call, flip me off or anything else you want, just as long as you get the hell out of my way in the process!  In this truck I am large, in charge and have places to go!

            

Me at the farm - gardening!
Hell-a sexy happening there!

Yea, girl hands!