Dad: Unedited XXIV

(My father shares a funny story below.  It made my belly shake, anyway!  Enjoy! -- Tracy)

Merry Christmas!

Derf Here!

Updates!  Updates!

1.)  Josh's team still undefeated -- done until next year.

2.)  My weight reduction (300 down to 259.6) is going well -- however, I have cheated slightly in the past couple weeks.  I purchased ice cream and some Len Libby's 'peanut brittle.'  (Mmm -- good!)  Next week I'll start my exercise along with my leafy diet as I have a doctor's appointment in February.  I want to weigh 250.

Usually, at least once a night I make a trip to the lavatory.  Sometimes, when lucky, I sleep through the night.  Last night the clock was on 3:00 a.m.  I couldn't get back to sleep as I had the following thoughts; why, I have no clue.  My next look at the clock was 5:15 a.m.  The following is the "Studebaker Saga."

Dad bought a Studebaker pickup sometime in the 1950's.  I drove it around quite a bit.  It was very light and I was able to spin the tires in second gear.  The stick shift was on the steering column.  If you don't know of a stick shift, visit a museum or a car show to see one.  The back would jump up over a bump in the road and the spring shackle would flip up so the spring would not work.  I'd jack up the rear of the truck and use a crow bar to snap the shackle back to its proper place and the spring would work properly.

The truck needed painting so we brush painted it using blue paint (probably house paint).  I believe the color was the same as I subsequently used on our Bantam, with the same sad results.

We had borrowed a flatbed truck from Carpenter's Dairy to help move sister Jean and husband Bob to Massachusetts.  I can't remember the town (city) but I think Ipswich.  They needed an apartment fairly close to college.  After spending some time in the apartment they were ready to move.  Anything would be an upgrade.  I believe this was their move to a fairly nice estate as semi-caretakers.  Well, some stuff had to be brought back to Maine.  The rest went with them.

Dad and I were the duo to go to Massachusetts to gather up the extra stuff.  Off we went one day (I think it was a Sunday).  We loaded the stuff in our brush painted Studebaker and headed home.  Why I let my dad drive is still a mystery to me.  We looked like "Fred Sanford & Son's Salvage Truck."  Perhaps we looked more like gypsies.  We were certainly dirty looking and wearing a couple of grubby-looking caps.

Then the one incident happened that I'll never forget.  We were coming to a truck weighing station.  Dad, I guess, thought this meant pickup trucks as well as those 'Big Rigs.'  Before I knew it we were on our way to be weighed.  I attempted to hide my face as we passed by the building that housed the men checking out the trucks.  I guess they just waved us through, as I refused to look at them.  I'm still surprised they didn't pull us over and check us out.  It was a memorable moment indeed.  I think this was the last time I let Dad drive when I was available.  A good move on my part for sure.

We made it back, thankfully, and emptied the truck of the stuff.  A successful trip with a laugh or two.

Until next time!

Merry Christmas!!  Toodle Pip!

Derf!

P.S.  I must mention this, showing my dad wasn't the only family member to err in driving.  We were returning from Boston with me behind the wheel and approached a construction site.  Well everyone said, "Turn here."  Well I turned and went through the construction site when the real turn was further up the road.  I don't think I drove without my glasses ever again.  Another wise decision!