A Fond Farewell to Big Red

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Big Red, a 1965 Ford F100, joined the family in the spring of 2015. My Beautiful Mystery Companion announced she wanted a farm truck to drive to work, so we found Big Red on eBay. The truck was shipped from Iowa to Longview and unloaded at the top of the hill back when we lived in town. We took it for a spin around the neighborhood. I quickly realized that the lack of power steering or power brakes would make Big Red a death trap for my diminutive BMC, who rarely breaks 100 pounds even after scarfing down a cheeseburger.

A friend who has restored a couple of dozen vehicles came over to inspect Big Red. He announced the engine needed to be rebuilt, strongly suggested adding power brakes, and gave us the name of the mechanic he used for such endeavors. The drive to the shop was gut-wrenching. I had to start pumping the brakes well before stopping. The same with turning a corner. This is not the type of truck one sneaks glances at a phone screen while driving. A moment of inattention and you can end up in a ditch or worse.

Big Red remained a hostage of the garage for about three months but returned to us with a rebuilt engine, the air filter cover and valve covers painted gold and black, as it had been when on the showroom floor a half-century earlier. It now had power brakes plus a new front end, clutch and muffler. Big Red ran perfectly but still proved too difficult for my BMC to steer. He challenged my CrossFit-trained arms as well. My brother-in-law, Jim, used a shade-tree mechanic outside of Gilmer, a longtime friend, whose yard is covered in old vehicles, similar in vintage to Big Red.

It took roughly another three months, but for well under a thousand bucks, the shade-tree fellow cobbled together a fine power steering system from a couple of other trucks. Big Red was finally drivable. Eventually we replaced a rusting tailgate. A country paint job completed this redneck restoration, as I termed it.

Big Red came in handy when we moved out to Three Geese Farm two years ago. We hired movers but to save money transported plants, shop equipment, yard furniture and whatever could be piled into the truck, as well as the trucks and trailers of my BMC’s family. Now that we had a farm, owning a farm truck made sense. However,  about eight months after moving to the farm, a co-worker at the time offered to sell us a 2001 Toyota Tundra for a very good price. Its paint job was faded, and part of the seat was ripped, but it ran as if it were brand new. And it had air conditioning, unlike Big Red, whose sole source of ventilation was rolling down the windows and plugging in the cigarette lighter fan I bought for $12. Big Red became superfluous.

I tried several avenues, including eBay, Facebook Marketplace, even leaving it in various parking lots with a “For Sale” sign stuck on the windshield. I also bought an ad in AutoTrader.com. For months, all I got were scams, folks trying to fool me into providing enough personal information to commit perfidy.

Then one day an email arrived that looked legitimate. We corresponded a few times. We Googled each other, still wary of scams on both sides of the transaction. He was a retired Army colonel living on a tree farm in Alabama, growing grapes to make wine, and collecting high-dollar bottles of bourbon — my kind of fellow. We came to an agreement on the price — a fair one for both of us — and he drove in the night before we were to close the deal, pulling a 20-foot trailer.

He arrived at 6:15 a.m. the next morning, handed me a wad of cash and invited me to count it. I quoted Ronald Reagan: Trust but verify and handed the money to my BMC to go inside the shop to count the cash. It indeed was all there.

Since I was one day past having major shoulder surgery, I was absolutely no help as he sweated and pulled chains through the chassis to make sure Big Red made it back to Alabama. We both promised to look each other up if in each other’s respective regions. I believe we could all be friends.

I am happy Big Red found a good home with someone who appreciates that beast of a truck, who served us well over the years. Since Alabama is home to the Crimson Tide, Big Red should fit in well.

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