I am going to try to make this shorter.
I bought this truck from my boss Paul Hains back in 1975. 200k miles, various reasons it was difficult to drive and a wonder all at the same time. I told you about the "wreck" on Frank Phillips Blvd, and a few of the glitchy type things involved in owning this beast. $100. That was what I gave. $100.
I had decided to be a great student of Col-Hi and help to my community and give my blood to the Red Cross one late spring afternoon. A bunch of us did. We thought it would be great so everyone split into their own cars and we went downtown. I think it is important to say that this was the only time I ever went to give blood, as it made me sicker than a dog, and I was beyond a little light headed, and caught a ride home with one of my friends. I left my truck.
I got home, called my Pop and lamented the facts of the deal and asked him (politely) if he would bring it home. He reluctantly agreed. Pop was one of Phillips 66 executives, suit and tie, good shoes, etc....every day. He ride with Chuck McWilliams since they carpooled to town, so the circumstances were right.
I laid down on the couch, fell asleep and woke about 5 o'clock. Pop got off at 5 and would be home at 5:17. Every day, 5:17. It had gotten about 90 degrees that afternoon. I looked out the front door. No Pop.
I stood there until 5:17. No Pop. 5:28. No. 5:36. No. I began to get ill inside. 5:45. Nothing. I was getting shaky. 5:53 Nope.
At 6:10, I looked again down Meadowbrook Lane and I saw him walking up the street. Suit coat up and folded over his shoulder with his thumb holding on. Necktie pulled down. Shirt unbuttoned. And he was wet from neck to waist.
I started thinking of the clutch. It would come past where the clutch was supposed to go. I remembered the brakes needing pumped three times to even prepare it to stop. I thought of the gear shift knob, wondered if I had done something with it. Never even considered that the no air-conditioner would be a problem, because it didn't have one.
I stepped out on the front porch just as he made the step up. His ears, bald spot, and neck were as fiery red as a branding iron. Suit and tie were frumpled, and you could see the sleeveless t-shirt through his white dress shirt.
Then he spoke. So quietly it made my blood run still.
"You will see to it that the brakes on the truck are brought up and work when simply depressed. You will see that the" (louder) "gas gauge is replaced, toot-sweet" (LOUDER STILL) "and you will get that clutch pedal fixed, to stop in the place it was designed to stop in before you go ANYWHERE!" He reached down and pulled up his hole-torn trouser leg that had been bleeding for a solid hour.
I can hurry it up and say that they were all fixed by the morning, new gauge was installed, clutch pedal fixed and brakes had been fixed as well.
Those headlights still need to be fixed.
Ralph Peck
Photo by Ralph Peck
Bartlesville, Oklahoma
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