Chevy S10 Long Bed

My history of cars during the years of my youth speaks to both my inexperience and lack of funds. I drove what I could afford and I was not too picky. One of my first 'rides' was a 1957 Chevy S10 Long Bed. This time period would have been around 1980, and the truck was two years older then me.

My brother John, who loved to tinker, bought it off my step-dad for a couple hundred bucks. He dickered around with it, but then sold it to me for $250.00. It was not my first car, but it certainly stays memorable.



This picture is not the actual truck, but a pretty good likeness for shape and color. John had been doing lots of sanding on it, but we never had it painted. I kept it for a year or two (no modifications), sold it back to John for $250.00. He sold it back to my step-dad for the same amount eventually, and my step-dad fixed it up, painted it canary yellow, and sold it for a couple grand.

It was a rough ride. It had a reliable straight 6 engine in it, the hood was spacious making the little narrow engine a piece of cake to work on. It had four on the floor, the big gear shift bending up over the bench seats. Key ignition, but a push button starter. While I had it it could have used a new set of tires, but I was on my college budget at the time.

I actually took it on a memorable date. I was going to NAU at the time and I asked out a friend from Phoenix. She was the daughter of prominent Dr. who had a house over on Lafayette Blvd. Lafayette Blvd. is one of those classic Phoenix streets where you would drive down just to look at all the fancy houses back at that time. Actually, that neighborhood is still pretty classic if you want to drive through there. Yes, I showed up at her beautiful house with that old truck. A cloud of exhaust and a pop of backfire.  I did the 'meet the parents' thing, and her daddy the Dr. had to come out and check out the truck. He actually went easy on me considering....he was into old trucks and it was a conversation starter. I'm sure he was a bit uneasy about the whole thing, but how much more nerdy could I be taking his daughter out in that thing? :)

We went out to dinner and a show. I then drove her up to a 'look out' point up on Squaw Peak (Piestewa Peak now), parked and put my arms around her. That was the extend of my 'moves' at the time. Me and that old truck then drove her home, and that was my one and only date with the young lady. :)



To this day, I have a fondness for old trucks. There is something graceful and utilitarian about their bulky shapes. I don't think trucks made today have as much character and style, they seem to go more for the 'macho' high off the ground power look.

To Melissa x, I apologize for taking you out in that old thing. And if I had it to do over again, I'd have snuck a kiss into the entire date package too.  :)

Cheers, nca

P.S. I learned years later that my wife's Grandmother had a house over on Lafayette Blvd....so maybe I ended up with one of those fancy Lafayette girls after all. Smiling...Cheers.

My Favorite Son-In-Law

My Mother-In-Law passed away a few days ago. As I knew it would be, this has been a very difficult time for my wife and daughters. Joyce was a loving and influential woman, indeed the family matriarch in every sense of the word. Before she passed away, she lived with us for a year and 1/2, moving back to her home about 3 months ago.

My daughters, their cousins, my wife and her brothers may have many more great  memories of her then I do. As a son-in-law, my relationship was not as close, and I may not claim to be as marked by her passing as they are. However, I have only terrific memories of her.

It would have been easy enough for her to not like me from the beginning. I was from a different background and a different religion. I was an outsider in every sense of the word. And I had eloped with her daughter on a very storm Thanksgiving weekend without even a word to the wise to her Mother or family.

Sure, when we told her, she was devastated and hurt. But I was her daughter's husband and soon the father of three of her Grand kids. So at all times she treated me with respect and kindness. A funny story my wife and I remember from that first month of marriage was Christmas Eve we were at my mother-in-laws house (this was very soon after the bomb shell of our elopment was made) and my wife and I had fallen asleep on the carpet beside her Christmas tree. In the middle of the night she came in and covered us with blankets.

She tried to help at times too, though I was too proud to take much help. I had to learn to swallow my pride when she desired to shower my daughters and wife with gifts and luxuries my salary could not afford. Both of my wife's parents tried to help us through struggles as best they could. I eventually was able to deal with these small blows to my pride by assuring myself that their help was for the benefit of my kids, not me.

After many many years, through much heartache to my wife and her family, I eventually joined the church of my wife and her family. This was of great joy to my wife and her mother, as this religion places great emphasis on family togetherness and exaltation. And, over time, as I became more financially stable I was able to 'pay her back' for all her sacrifice over the years. We took her on many family trips, including Hawaii and Texas. We laughed often over the Hawaiian name our family, including my Mother-In-Law,  were given in Hawaii (The Liki-Liki Family) And for that 1 and 1/2 years, she lived under our roof and partook in our family life.

From her, I learned a lot about patience, and acceptance, and kindness. She was a good example of those things. As a mother and grandmother, she was exceptional. I will miss her greatly.

Cheers to EJ

From her 'Favorite Son In Law'

nca

Hobo Signs

I was watching a couple old reruns of AMC's Mad Men early this morning. I have yet to figure out whether I like the show or not, but the two reruns I watched were on the very cool side. One of the episodes I watched was called "The Hobo Code". Part of that episode was particular flashbacks to Don Draper's childhood, and to a Hobo visiting his homestead at that formulative time in his life. The Hobo teaches the young Don (aka Dick Whitman) some Hobo Signs.

 From the late 19th 1880's thru WWII, hobos left graffiti to inform fellow hobos of local conditions. Typically, these signs would be scribed in chalk or coal., or as in the above, episode, carved in wood.

In this particular episode, the flashbacks to his childhood teach the viewer something about Don's character, and something about his past.  The visiting Hobo carves a sign toward the end of the episode as a judgement made on one of Don's family members. No, I won't play spoiler here, but I will make a brief comment on this as  to how the details of the episode reflect upon my life.

I was a bit of a 'hobo', in my youth. I did some thumbing, freight car hopping etc. in my time. I did not think of myself as a hobo, and I knew nothing about these 'signs'.  Interesting though, we left our own signs in our own fashion. My travelling companion kept a coloring book and crayons in his backpack as something to keep him occupied during lulls of our trip, downtime before catching that next ride.   My companion also kept a journal, which we both logged words in from time to time.  And there were times when other thumb-travelers out there had left messages on the underpasses which we would read. I particularly remember reading some clever 'underpass poetry' from some creative fellow traveler. Somewhere, I remember I wrote the verses down, if I come across those lines again I will let you all know. It would not surprise me if we had seen 'Hobo Signs' and not recognized them for what they signified.

So, it was pretty interesting seeing these 'codes' on TV, and likening it unto my own life. The episode was clever and thought provoking. As I ponder on the episode, and how it relates to my own life, I am forced to ponder what 'Hobo' sign might be left to mark my life, my personality. If my life were judged by other fellow travels who passed through my life, what Hobo  code would they leave to define me and my mark upon their visit with me?

Cheers, nca

P.S. For an Interesting Article about Underpass Poetry, click here.