When it was new, this truck gleamed. It was the color of the sky, of the Tar Heels, of Memama’s favorite china pattern. 
And then someone put it to work — hard work. A man with a torch and wrench affixed a boom to this sky-blue truck’s bed. To that was attached chains and a hook strong enough to pull late-night cars out of late-night mishaps on late-night roads. 
And, because it was the toughest machine Ford built in 1956, this F-100 did it all — ithe breakdowns, the Saturday-night drunks, the joyriders. Now it rests in a weedy lot near Soperton, 150 miles southeast of Atlanta.
No. 105: An Old Hooker
Published by oldcarguy
Sisyphus in a fedora. View more posts
It Was Running When I Parked It 