Ryan’s article yesterday about the 1955-56 Ford truck nameplates reminded me of the previous ’56 Ford F100 I owned perfectly over 20 many years in the past. It was almost nothing particular or rare- A little rear window, straight six, 3-on-the-tree, short bed in a horrible metallic brown. Her nickname was ‘Uncle Jesse’, following the outdated male Jesse Duke’s rig on a selected Television set demonstrate, even while my Ford looked very little like his. On a sunny day in the park at Crusin’ Paso Robles in 1999, some talented child who could not have been more than 12 or 13 decades aged provided to lay out flames on the front fender with masking tape, just for kicks (These spontaneous and rad things applied to happen at Paso back then, but I digress). The tape styles came out so very good that I experienced the young male mask out flame licks all the way down just about every fender of the truck and proceeded to hand him all the pocket income I experienced. Back again house, a buddy of mine hand-striped the line perform out with One Shot, pinstriped the taillights, and threw a Flying Eyeball on the back again, just for kicks. The ol’ F100 was nevertheless poop brown, but at the very least the black flames and white striping produced it glimpse halfway awesome.
A incredibly brief whilst later, I satisfied the girl who would become my wife. Correct prior to our first actual day, I realized the truck experienced no seatbelts so I speedily purchased some JC Whitney ‘aircraft’ belts in poop beige and spent the evening ahead of our rendezvous putting in them. We drove the F100 up to Petaluma in the rain, safely and securely buckled in, wipers likely facet to aspect to the conquer of the music enjoying the cab, just laughing and obtaining the very best time ever. Many thanks Uncle Jesse.