Ryan’s publish yesterday about the 1955-56 Ford truck nameplates reminded me of the old ’56 Ford F100 I owned well above 20 yrs ago. It was very little distinctive or uncommon- A tiny rear window, straight 6, 3-on-the-tree, quick bed in a awful metallic brown. Her nickname was ‘Uncle Jesse’, immediately after the previous guy Jesse Duke’s rig on a selected Tv set clearly show, even even though my Ford seemed very little like his. On a sunny working day in the park at Crusin’ Paso Robles in 1999, some talented kid who could not have been a lot more than 12 or 13 several years old supplied to lay out flames on the entrance fender with masking tape, just for kicks (All those spontaneous and rad points utilised to transpire at Paso back then, but I digress). The tape styles arrived out so good that I had the young gentleman mask out flame licks all the way down each fender of the truck and proceeded to hand him all the pocket dollars I had. Again residence, a buddy of mine hand-striped the line operate out with One particular Shot, pinstriped the taillights, and threw a Flying Eyeball on the back again, just for kicks. The ol’ F100 was however poop brown, but at minimum the black flames and white striping produced it glance halfway cool.
A really quick though later on, I fulfilled the female who would become my wife. Suitable right before our 1st actual day, I understood the truck had no seatbelts so I speedily ordered some JC Whitney ‘aircraft’ belts in poop beige and spent the night prior to our rendezvous setting up them. We drove the F100 up to Petaluma in the rain, properly buckled in, wipers likely aspect to aspect to the beat of the audio actively playing the taxi, just laughing and obtaining the most effective time at any time. Thanks Uncle Jesse.