Working in construction, the only vehicle Dad owned for most of my childhood was a powder blue 1966 Chevy pick up. It was the first vehicle he bought brand new and I was thrilled the day he asked me to come along with him to pick it up...(no pun intended).
In addition to being Dad's work vehicle, it was also used to transport my sister, Mom, dog and I to various locations around the Lower Mainland... Gramma's, Nana's and beyond. It had a three on the tree which Dad somehow managed to shift with all four of us and Sparky (a totally whacked out Maltese terrier) crammed onto the seatbelt free bench seat. The dashboard was solid steel and kind of wedge shaped-- in the event of an accident (thankfully there weren't any) the impact would have surely crushed mine or my sisters head or both.
We lived in North Burnaby and on some warm summer nights Dad would drive the family to Stanley Park, Deer Lake, Sasamat Lake or Buntzen Lake to cool off. Sasamat and Buntzen were probably the longest of these trips (maybe 20 miles one way) and Dad would let my sister and I (and whatever neighbourhood kids decided to tag along) ride in the back of the pick up as long as we 'sat down'. As a matter of fact I think most trips made anywhere in the summer were prefaced with, "Da-ad, can we ride in the back...pleeease."--- "OK, just sit down with your backs against the cab." I always laugh when I see a dog in the back of a truck with it's doggie smile on, tongue out enjoying the wind, I felt the same way on those road trips.
I think the real classic outing that would make any modern parent call the authorities was the time Dad took us to Playland at the P.N.E (BD-- Pacific National Exhibition). Dad had been working for somebody that had a job in an administrative position with the P.N.E. and had given him a whole roll of free ride tickets... talk about hit the jackpot. Since there was no way my sister and I could have used them all Dad invited us to round up as many of the neighbourhood kids as we could to share in the bounty-- I think it was around ten... here's photos of eight...
It wasn't a very long trip from our neighbourhood to the P.N.E. (probably only five blocks or so) but could you imagine the look on the face of any parent today if they saw a 'father' driving a pick up with a couple of kids in the front, sans seat belts, and eight kids in the box barely able to contain themselves with the excitement and anticipation of 'free rides.'
I don't remember much else of that day, maybe the summer sun, a few rides, the good feeling that comes with being able to treat your friends and the camaraderie of the trip but what seems to stick the most now is the absolute ridiculousness of a father with ten kids piled into a powder blue '66 chevy pick up truck... and we all made it.
2 comments:
Ah, the old days! One of my dad's trucks was an old International. I learned how to drive a stick out in the pasture in that truck, then advanced to an International Travelall from the 60's. He made us do the same thing in the truck, but we loved it!
I have a '64 that is red and white--we throw a little floaty boat/banana? boat in the back and I haul Brett and Brigham in it--I have a seat belt, but its the only one--talk about paranoid--I'm terrified of that metal dash crushing skulls, so I am the ridiculously slow moving old lady cautious driver. Drives them crazy.
"Just GO!"
I like your use of old photos. My mom still holds onto ours...
In the Sunday edition of the News classified there is a '62 Chevy pick-up for sale ($7100).
Just looking at the little photo in the paper made me instantly want that truck.
I reckon my desire to grasp a piece of the past is what fuels this desire.
Those simple days when Dad let us ride in the back of the AMC Rebel wagon around town. Sometimes my brother and I could even sit up on the tailgate, with the window down, and rest our elbows on the roof and watch the road ahead. Oh the freedom!
It's all gone now.
We are too educated about the foolish recklessness of our past.
What the hell!?
Do we really want to live forever without experiencing something foolish and reckless?
Honey, pass me a beer, I've got a cigarette in my hand and I want to change the station...
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