I put the GT on the car trailer and drove it to Alternative Blasters (in Marysville) to have the cruddy paint job removed. I left the glass in, as it makes life easier for blaster, but will remove it when the car is back. Then it’s on to rust repair (lower front fenders) and new paint in the original grey (which you can see a glimpse of where the tail lights were).

The Ford put in yeoman service (yet again) hauling around my other machines.

The F250 that I just sold blew up on the way home for the new owner. I wish I could feel good about the timing, but it sucks all the way around.

Well, sold the ’68 F250 with mixed feelings today. I just wasn’t going to get around to fixing it, and I think it went to a good home. But I’ll miss it, it was in many ways “the perfect truck” for me, as far as specification, color, year, etc. goes. But realistically, I never would have gotten around to it. Sigh…

This is what a carport should look like. Reggie, Fireball, and Fergie. Old Yeller sits outside, knowing that come winter he will take the place of the two fair-weather machines. Or something like that, anyway. Bike is running OK, though the blasted carb is really a piece of junk. Time to try a different one, me thinks.

I met a potential contractor for our new house at our property on Friday. I was lamenting that I rarely get good deals because I put out some weird “sucker” vibe or something. He said “show up to a meeting in that truck and they’ll know you don’t have any money.”

My poor truck gets no respect–and it’s a perfect disguise (not that I have any money, in any case, but still).

I’ve got a lot of car-related tasks to do this summer, but rebuilding the front end of my truck has got to be up there on the priority list. The springs have sagged a lot, and there is a ton of slop in the steering. I think I’m just going to do it all while I’m in there…tie rod ends, bearings, discs, springs, shocks, king pins and bushings. I suspect at least some of the slop is in the power steering, but that project can wait for another day.

I’ve always liked pickups, and I became a Ford man by the Matchbox ’69 Ford I had as a kid (a “kennel” truck–the kennel and occupants were quickly lost, though).

When I bought a house in 1996, I discovered I needed a truck. I bought an ’84 F150, which was tired but reliable. That soon became a ’90 F150, and that eventually turned in “Moby D,” a gigantic white 1998 F150 4×4 which I paid too much money for, but enjoyed.

Last year I decided that for the amount it was driven, the ’98 was a silly “investment,” sold it and bought a ’69 F250 for $1000. I only had it for a few months, though, as it was a manual shift and my wife would like to be able to use whatever truck we have–and she only drives automatics.

One quick sale and $900 later, I have old yeller. It’s worn but not abused, the color scheme makes me smile, and has all the right options and equipment. It’s also not rusty–a rarity. I hope to restore it one day, but in the meantime it gets used, a lot.