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Why the Truck?

By Red Truck If you love a vehicle that is versatile, practical, useful, elegantly simple, you get a truck, and if you are on your toes you'll get a red truck, which I became through therapy and love. This is my story. I was born green in the fall of 1955 in Terrytown, New York. I was a full blown flatbed stakebody farm truck right from the beginning. My early years are hard to remember but I must have put in many a hard day as I was retired to the back of Swanie's Garage in Chestertown NY in the late 70's with 65000 miles on me, rusted, but running on gas, lots of oil, and patience. Bill bought me for a couple hundred in '83 to run wood from the pile to the kiln. Previous to my arrival he had a red 64 Chevy pickup that had to be pastured, but not before becoming the inspiration for Bill's pottery, Red Truck Clay Works. I don't mind saying I was pretty reliable for an older fellow so Bill bought me a new set of shoes, rewired my lights, and got me licensed. I was back on the road again. It wasn't long after that a light restoration followed and I became red, was furnished with a PTO and a 1949 dump ram for my new steel decked flatbed, had my engine rebuilt, and took on a new life as the Red Truck red truck. So now I was red and elegant and plying the roads between Chestertown and Blue Mt. Lake where the pottery had began a second store. I basked in the summer sun so when customers came to visit there would be something for the men to look at. (And I basked in the winter's snows, too, because Bill didn't have a garage.) I ran wood and clay and bricks and materials for building projects. But old is old and there are some things you just can't fix. In 2002 I had body part transplant therapy. A donor from Oklahoma, who had passed unexpectedly, left me a relatively unrusted cab, a fancy 5 light cab, the kind with little windows in the rear corners. Best yet, Bill built a garage for me and now I rest peacefully under cover UNLESS I get job like running wood from the pile, making a dump run, picking up manure for the garden, or taking a bath. Bill sold his place in Blue a couple years ago and I don't make the long trips any more. Mostly I advise him on the pleasures of keeping life simple, taking time to make pots right, and making sure he keeps a good dog on the seat beside him.

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