My '55 Ford F100 is not only a story about memory lane, but also what every classic car owner must wonder at times regarding their vehicle. I call my '55 Ford F100, the "possessed pumpkin."
I grew up in south Phoenix, which at that time was very much a working family neighborhood mixed with modest red brick homes and trailer parks. And at the end of our street was even a small church. Our neighbor across the street worked for the local power company and was a former linebacker for Southern Methodist University. Just one heck of a no fooling around kind of a guy. But his true pride and joy was a black mid fifty Ford F100 pick up truck. Simply beautiful in both sight and sound. For me, it was like this really cool truck that we had the honor of gracing our humble neighborhood. He parked it on the street and right across from my bedroom window. The story does sadden as one day it was stolen, never to be recovered again. As kind of a date stamp, this was way before gps, car alarms and steering wheel clubs. The Ford Pinto was in its heyday if that helps give a better time frame. But the bottom line was, I really don't think my neighbor was ever the same again and quite frankly either was I.
I vowed that one of these days, I would get one those mid fifty Ford F100s and restore the enchantment I once had for this fabled truck. My original plan was a black one, just like my neighbors. Well, it certainly is not black and I found one that still needed some work. It had all the old school charm, but cool attitude as well. I call it my "possessed pumpkin," as it certainly has a mind of its own. Welcome to classic car ownership when cars did have personalities.