this job basically entailed (in those far-gone days, at least ) many hours behind the wheel, operatin' on the ragged edge of utter exhaustion, as well as the wire edge of dexadrine (speed) coffee, weed and which ever lil sweety was willin' to ride along and help me stay awake.
(my thanks, ladies, for your awesome efforts in keepin' me awake and alive!! )
(-;
(my thanks, ladies, for your awesome efforts in keepin' me awake and alive!! )
(-;
anyway, the ole truck in this case looked kinda like this: 1957 dodge short-hooded tractor with a big-block 440 buckled up to a 10 speed eaton transmission, with dual exhausts stickin' up tall behind the cab.
ole smokey was her name, and talk about sweet soundin', rollin' down into those lil mountain towns in that area, downshiftin', back pressure through those stacks reverbin' off hillsides, buildings, etc, now n again a sharp blast of blue flame out the stacks if the throttle was played just right, was music to the ears sweepin' round curves into town and the deep throaty growl as ya rolled on the throttle up to around 2800 rpm, then backed off to slip easily into yer next gear with a ferris wheel, round-up, paratrooper, rollo-plane, or what ever ride my load was on that run.
she was a faded red, black trim, some chrome, not much, not real flashy, yet she'd grab yer eyeballs and keep yer attention as long as she was in sight.those air-ride seats were mighty comfy, the shifter sat well forward in the cockpit, big ole wire-spoked and wood steerin' wheel with a knuckle-buster at about 7 o'clock on the wheel, perfectly situated to let ya rest yer left elbow on the windowsill and steer easily, right hand thus bein' free to shift, snatch the mic for the cb radio, twiddle with the ancient am radio ( dayamn, why in the hell can't they make am radio's that well and sweet soundin' now??? ) or to carress le babe de jour, lol.
twas almost magical...
damn, i miss that ole truck....
