To say that the Camaro was my first car wouldn't exactly be true. There was this truck. My Grandfathers truck. My Dad's truck. My truck. Ol' Yeller.
He wasn't a "Show Off Of The Week" or a 5 star, car show winning, drag racing champion. He was a truck, a truck among trucks, and this is his story.
A TRIBUTE TO OL' YELLER
James loved the outdoors, and he loved to fish. So did his family. There was only one vehicle in the entire family, and that was Jim's old '55 tow truck. No good for camping. He made the decision one Christmas, He would get a camping truck, a truck for his family, a nice one, with a radio, and a camper to put on top. Then, he got his chance.
He was sitting in his rocking chair, smoking his pipe, listening to Johnny Cash on the family radio when a commercial came on. "Ford is proud to introduce, the next generation of Pick Up truck. It's a truck for the family, it's a powerful workhorse that drives as easy as any car. It's the Ford F-250 Camper Special. With heavy duty springs, a second gas tank, and a powerful 352 V8 engine, it can get your entire family and anything else up, and down the mountain with the ease of driving a car. But wait, there's more. it's a beach house, it's a mountain retreat, it's a hunting lodge, it's a Ford Truck Bed Camper. And at your local Ford Dealership, you can get one with your camper special truck for the low price of 3000 dollars!"
James ran to his room, grabbed his savings out of the old cowboy boot in his closet and went to the Ford dealership.
"Merry Christmas!" he said to his family as he opened the blinds on christmas the next morning. it was Two Tone colors with Yucatan Gold on the top and white on the bottom. "Look at the chrome" his 9 year old son Rusty exclaimed. They explored the camper inside and out, and they took turns sitting in the driver's seat pretending to drive it. The family was now mobile
Summertime came. Time to go fishing. James readied the new truck. "What in Tarnation are these things" he said yanking on two awkwardly protruding straps in the bench seat. He reached into the glove box and pulled out the owners manual. "Safety Belts?" he asked himself. "Rusty, get over here."
"yea dad"
"Grab my tools and help me remove these safety belts, would ya"
" but dad i seen them things on the TV, theys supposed to make you survive a car crash better"
"BAH! we didn't need no safety belts in the army, now grab my tools boy"
"yes daddy"
They drove that truck everywhere, it's tires had seen every county of Utah. they went here, they went there, they went up and down mountains, through rivers, and over trees. yes that truck could do everything the advertisements said it could and then some. James even added a CB radio so that he could talk back and forth from the truck and home, like magic.
time passed and the kids all graduated and had kids of their own except for Rusty, the youngest. He was in his senior year in High School.
the phone rang and James answered. "hello" he said curiously. the phone answered back "Dad" Rusty's voice said soberly "I'm uh... in jail"
"DAMN IT BOY WHAT DID YA DO!"
"it wasn't me it was that dang barracuda! I was driving up State Street in my Chevelle, minding my own business when this Barracuda lost control and crashed into me" The real truth was that he was street racing, and he pulled ahead and lost control and the Barracuda T-boned him, nobody was hurt but the cars, the Barracuda was totaled, but he could still drive, and he was halfway to Nevada before the cops caught him. But he wasn't about to tell his dad that.
James knew that was a lie, but he posted bail for him anyway. Rusty's 1970 Chevelle SS was impounded overnight, the next morning he found to his horror that all of the interior was gone.... down to the metal gone. and under his hood he had no headers, no intake, and no carburetor. he didn't even have his SS badging left. No more Chevelle for him. He drove Ol' Yeller to Work and school until he could make enough money to buy his own truck. He sold His 396 Big Block from his Chevelle to a guy with a 1945 Ford Pick up for $200. then he used Ol' Yeller as a work truck. he was a Brick Mason, not a job that would be easy on a truck, but Ol' Yeller wasn't about to let a few Tons of concrete and brick stop him. Nope he kept on rollin' a few minor things broke, like the gas gage, but that wouldn't stop a 2 gas tank truck.
finally Rusty earned enough money to get his own truck. He parked Ol' Yeller in his dad's back yard and started his own life and had kids, including me.
When i was seven, Grandpa died. He left the Ol' yeller to my dad who had his own trucks to deal with, so there it sat in grandmas back yard, until i turned 15 that is. i had my learners, so it was time to start learning.
"Fire it up!" my dad yelled to me from outside of the truck. I unrolled the window and yelled back. "I don't have the key" my dad laughed and said. "it's sitting right next to you." i laughed back and picked up the flat head screw driver and stuck it in the ignition and cranked it. "RRRrrrrrgggg" it moaned. " give it some gas" my dad said. It was loud, the muffler was rusted into dust and was almost not even there. RRRRRRVVVOOOMMM! incredible, 15 years of sitting outside in the wether and it started up. The term "Die Hard" came to mind. CLANK CLANK THUD! "oh crap what did I do" I yelled. My dad was laughing his head off as he reached under the truck and grabbed the starter motor and held it up to me. "loose somthing?" he said with a smile. we put it back on with this amazing material called Bailing Wire and i drove it home. i drove it into the back yard and was getting ready to put it in park. i grabbed the 3 on the tree shift handle and moved it halfway over to P when SNAP the entire shifter breaks off. i had no idea what i had gotten myself into.
I spent months going back and forth to junk yards getting parts to make it run smoothly again, and yes, i had to change out the entire steering column because i broke the shifter. finally, Ol' Yeller was back in business, a little rusty, but back in business nonetheless. I learned to drive in him. he seemed indestructable. i mean
Then, i found the car i truly wanted. My 1980 Camaro. if you want the story on that i suggest you go to that page on this website. it's a real nail-biter if I do say so myself. Anyway, by that time i was 16. I still worked on Ol' Yeller on the side because i still loved that truck. Then, one cold February, i crashed my Camaro. Again, refer to the camaro page. here is the summary, i won a contest to fix it. woo hooo. But I'm sure any of you already know, fixing a car takes lots and lots and lots of time and money. I only got 3000 dollars from the contest, so i had to do lots of the work my self putting the pieces together. in the meanwhile, super duper invincible Ol' Yeller was there for me. He had a history of helping people through hard times, and he was at it again. man that truck was awesome. i got a carpet kit and a camper shell from the junk yard, and now i had 8 cup holders... none of them in the cab. Oh, and i had to dig through a load of crap in my grandma's garage to find the stupid seat belts so it would pass inspection.
The hard times only got harder. Gas was going up, and money for gas was going into Camaro parts. I couldn't afford gas anymore, i still managed. I filled up the tank to full and added some of Grandpa's old lead additive (yes, Ol' yeller takes leaded) and i parked him outside for the night. The next day i was driving to school when PUT PUT dead. i was befuddled. i had just put $70 in gas the other night, i opened the gas cap and used a stick to check the gas tank. i took the stick out of both tanks to find that they were totally dry. someone had syphoned my gas away. I hope they had fun with leaded gas in whatever they put it in. I called my dad and he drove from work with a gas tank. he put a gallon in it, then we went to the gas station to fill it back up. my dad filled up both tanks. I turned to him as he paid for my gas "How much do i owe you" he pulled his debit card out of the gas pump and said "nothin'"
"no, i'm going to pay you back"
"forget it. i know you can't afford it, this one's on me." He was right, i couldn't. Thats when he said "I think it's time to sell Ol' Yeller" that hit like a brick to the face, but i knew he was right. I couldn't afford him.
I posted him on KSL, which is pretty much like Craigslist but just for Utah and some of the surrounding areas. Within a week i had a buyer. He came to my house to look at Ol' Yeller. He said he was impressed by the interior being in the condition it was in, and said he would take it for $700. the junkyard offered my $70 for it so i thought that $700 wasn't bad. I asked him what he would do with it. he said he would give it to his dad, who was senile and thought he was still in 1968. He said all his dad would use it for would be to drive to the dump and back. I had the feeling that he would do more that that, he was wearing a leather shirt that had a patch sewn on it that said JEFFS FLAMING HOT RODS and it had a picture of an old pick-up on it. I handed him the same flat head screwdriver i had first started the truck with, and said "heres the key, you better take care of him"
"I will" he said, and handed me the money. I watched my truck drive off. I cried that day. that truck had been in the family for 3 generations, and i sold it for a measly $700 dollars. Thats when i knew, i could never do that to my Camaro. i had sacrificed Ol' Yeller to fix it.
I still needed a car so i took that seven hundred dollars a got a more fuel efficient car. What i got was a 1991 Honda Prelude. Which among my friends earned the nick name, the Honda Gay-lude. Because it had broken down on us on our way to the Journey, Cheap Trick, and Heart concert. I fixed it, but i think that car it just the most irritating thing i have ever driven. It has the most annoying beep noises. and i swear, every like 5 seconds it beeps just to irritate me. And it flips out over the smallest things. i can't open the door without hearing BEEEEEEEEEEEPPP! BEEEEEEEEEP! And here is where they get you, it gets 30 mpgs. so i save money at the expense of my comfort and patience. Awesome huh.
someday, when i am rich and famous, i will find Ol' Yeller and buy him back, but until then, i still have my Camaro. (which you should check out by the way)
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