Good morning.
22 August 2025
Before I left home in 1971, I had a 1950 Chevrolet pickup—taxicab yellow, with a few primer spots thrown in for good measure. It’d make a perfect hobby car today. But back then, fixing it up was just a dream. That kind of dream takes money, and money was always in short supply.
Still, I made a few upgrades. I added a tachometer to the steering column, mostly because it looked cool. I mounted an eight-track player under the dash and stuck a couple of old cheap speakers behind the seat. And when I say cheap, I mean bare—just raw speakers without covers, rattling around like they knew they didn’t belong.
Looking back, I should’ve sprung for a generator or at least a decent battery. If it didn’t start after one or two cranks, I had to push-start it. I have no idea what happened to that truck after I left.
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” — Dr. Seuss