Truck

Hank's International Harvester 1200 pickup.

I’ve always been a sucker for the lines of an old pickup truck. I don’t know whether it’s because I have been around them most of my life, or that I drove them, or that people who were important to me drove them. Now that I commute 20 miles to work each day in an old truck, I know that it isn’t just the lines that I love, it’s also the sound, feel, lack of intermittent windshield wipers, lack of air conditioning, and a bunch of other quirky things that encourage me to slow down and pay attention to the world around me, and think about things.

This particular truck is a 1964 International Harvester 1200 series machine with a big steering wheel and a tiny cab. It came my way last Christmas; a gift from my wife and daughters. Wow. I love the truck because of what it is and because it reminds me every day of how lucky I am to have a family filled with women who care about me. I drove a crew-cab version (with the turning radius of a loaded container ship) of this Binder for the county highway department summers during college. I like that it reminds me of the fun I had working with that cast of characters, and of whiling away warm summer lunch hours, in the shade, playing spades.

Plenty of folks complain that they dislike their daily commute; I don’t blame them. I, on the other hand look forward to the transition time at both ends of the workday. I am lucky that my trip is an easy one and that it passes through some lovely and ever-changing countryside. The commute helps me mark the seasonal progression and process memories associated with it. It helps me wind up to meet the day’s challenges and unwind when I have done all I can do. But, perhaps best of all, when wrapped in that noisy metallic cocoon of the old truck’s cab, the commute lets my thoughts lead me where they will.