This pickup is very similar to the one my dad and my son were fixing up. My dad started work for Southwestern Bell Telephone Company with this truck, and they allowed him to purchase it when they retired it for a newer model. Daddy and I used to haul hay in this truck; we bombarded snowdrifts in it... and he and my son dreamed of refurbishing it and driving it in the Bevier Homecoming parade. Ours is painted about this color, new chrome job on the grille... but just not finished. My son has no heart for it right now, but maybe someday when the years have gentled our hearts to the huge space that is Paw-paw. Two years ago today about noon was the last we had with my dad. Anniversaries of the heart, they call it. I remember my grandmother announcing in sad tones that her dad had died "fill-in-the-number-of" years before on that particular day. As a child, I thought.. "Grrr... keep it to yourself! That is nothing to say out loud, Gramma!" But, oh... sad news like that breaks forth from the heart and through the lips... and it says itself. August, once a month of 4-H fairs, family vacations, fun at the Bevier Homecoming, and hayrides, is now kind of a month filled with spirits of holidays, birthdays, and solitary anniversaries that make me sad... At least for tonight, they do. Take care, all. Hugs.