Hidden Candies, Corsages, and Life at the Height of a Steering Wheel: Remembering Grandaddy Part 2
Post by Onna Carr
My parents purchased the truck and took it back to my great-grandparent's farm, where
Grandaddy recognized it as his truck from Ford in 1959. It is the same color, year, and style of the
truck in the original Parent Trap, but, I digress. He brushed his hands on the truck’s tailgate,
showing my parents where he had cut out the truck-bed to allow for the installation of a feeder when
he had the vehicle. He later gave my father the pieces he had removed, as he and Gramsey kept
everything. They figured that surviving the Great Depression had taught them at least a thing or two,
one of them being you never knew when something might come in handy. He sold the truck a few
years after buying it brand new, in the 1960’s to a man who used it to feed his cattle, and then it was
passed on yet again to a couple of other owners before my parents purchased the vehicle.
My parents used Thor to carry wood to their house in the country. They enjoyed the vehicle,
except for a brief incident brought on by being late for a Christmas party and running over a barbed
wire fence, pulling off the muffler in the process. This was one of the rare occasions my father,
typically a quiet, economics student, turned the air a bit blue, surprising my mother, a young and
vivacious English student, who thought she had married a man that only said “darn it,” when stressed.
The way home to unload the load of wood and to the Christmas party was a very noisy enterprise as
the muffler was bent and this made the thunder of Thor roll even more loudly across the prairie.
A few years later, my parents sold Thor back to Grandaddy. He and my parents decided to
swap vehicles. Grandaddy traded/sold them he and Gramsey’s 2-door sedan as it was better
equipped to be a family vehicle. It did not matter that Thor wasn't as nice as when he purchased it
new: Thor ran and that fact was good enough for him. My parents were preparing for my arrival
and a move to Arkansas for my father’s graduate degree, which made the sedan a more appealing
choice at the time.
A couple of years later, my mother and I got caught in a blizzard, and the sedan quit
working, necessitating a two-day stay in a hotel. When we finally made it home in “Old Blue,” and I
was removed from my car-seat with my feet firmly in my driveway, I marched up to the car’s tire and
kicked it with my multi-colored, Nickelodeon shoes, declaring, “Bad car, you made my Mama cry!” It
was that day that we went out and bought another car, a Ford--Thor had taught my parents some
things: it might be noisy, but a Ford seldom left you stranded.
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