There she sat. I called her Margie. As simple and honest as ever there was. When stopping at Jefferson City’s city hall to drop off recycling, I couldn’t help but walk over and snap a few pictures of this delightful old girl. Aching to be driven, Margie sat eagerly daydreaming of her next adventure.
The wading boots are stashed in front of the bed, awaiting a fishing trip in the nearby Missouri River. Or maybe a private pond somewhere. Margie would be happy to go there and maybe even get a little dirty in the process.
Margie had a few years on her, and was looking a little weathered, but she still has a nice profile.
Perhaps even more classic and dignified than Brittany, the F-150 parked next to her. Margie knew Lori, the Ranger, was striving to be like her.
Margie knows it is wise to take care of your insides, as well as your outside. She just wasn’t wild about the blanket covering her well-loved seat.
Grinning to herself, Margie knew she was more likely to go on a wild adventure off-road or through the woods with her owner than Brittany. It warmed her heart.
Lucky Margie. Her daydream came true just a few hours later.
Ahhh…the time when trucks were just trucks – simple and built to work. Will we see their like again?
My all-time favorite trucks were the 1967-72 GM models, preferably short bed w/fenders like we had in the air force.
These weren’t bad, either…
Buddy of mine had an ex-USAF C-10 that was exactly as you describe.
It was the stripper to beat all strippers. Appeared to have been painted blue about 48 times.
The Navy had a lot of those, all gray short narrow box sixes with three-speeds. Basically motorized wheelbarrows. They had a tendency to diesel – probably something to do with the kind of service they had in the navy yard – I remember shutting one off, then driving it clear across the pier with it dieseling. We had to put it in high and pop the clutch to kill the engine.
Ah, Margie. I knew her in another life…she was called “Bullets.” Or, am I confusing her with another?
Bullets was our work truck – back when I worked for a small resort-town DPW’s landscape crew. Faded paint; missed most of the winter salt since she was used only within the village confines were we used sand, not salt on the streets.
For all of that, the same characteristic end-fender rust-line was there. It’s a shame they didn’t know how to build them with corrosion resistance in those days; because that era of truck just OOZED character.
A few more years and my old F100 will look like that.
Somehow I knew that there would be an indian blanket on the seats.
She looks ready for another 50 years…….
My wife commented on the Indian blanket also. She asked if all old pickups just grow one on the seats after they hit 30.
What a beautiful machine. I would so enjoy this truck as-is with one exception. That shifter needs to be back on the tree where it belongs. I’ve run across tons of those conversions & every one of them is sloppy beyond belief..not to mention the shifters are about two feet two short. I’ve seen some trucks with chunks of the seat cut out so first & third gears would engage.
My dream truck is a ’68 model fleetside with 396..either wheelbase.
Makes me nostalgic for my 63 F100.
“It’s not the years, it’s the miles…”
One more… in working clothes. I finally had to retire this truck last year and replaced it with a ’95 4WD 300cid. Much more comfortable to drive, but kind of bland in character in comparison. The old ’69 is pure purpose.
Ha! Need a Farmhand?
What year is this truck?
It’s a ’64 through ’66. About the only difference between the years is the style and location of the model designation badge. I’m too lazy to look up the difference so let’s call it a ’65.
I’d go 65 too. That seems to have the highest survival rate. The Jimmys have all been re-powered by now too. Sadly, that V6 (305ci GMC only) was an amazing mill!
Yes – I’d love an old sixties C-10. 235 (pre’63) or 230/250/292 six . . . three on the tree OK for me. I remember trying to talk the “Bank of Dad” into helping me finance a forest service truck in high school. He nixed that although I wound up with the ’74 Courier. That little Mazda built 1.8L truck was a tough little beast although it sure could’ve used a fifth gear and some more power (which I did later via Weiand air cleaner, removal of air pump and plugs in the injector holes and a freer flowing exhaust).
It’s Old Blue! Our 65 Chevy C10, 230 six, three-on-the-tree, “heavy duty” rear suspension (bigger coils) and nothing else. We bolted an AM radio under the dash later to get the markets (and the tunes), got Dad some “Western” rearview mirrors (which he hated-cut off vision to the side) and off we went. Learned to drive a stick on that thing in the hay field, chased cattle (one minor ding in the door from an ornery heifer), hauled 4H cattle, chicken feed, school kids, the entire cast of the high school play one crazy night, etc. Motor ticked a little when you let the oil get low (till we figured out we needed to re-tighten the valve cover), got 14 mph whether you ran it fast or slow, hard or easy, and she ran and ran, in all weather, on all roads, any time of year, for the ten years we had her. “In Loving Memory,”
Nice old truck Ive just been looking at a lenlease Fargo hiding in a paddock nearby
That truck will last longer from right now with the right owner taking care of it than anything I could buy brand new today. I think the only thing might live longer would be a Beetle.
My 1990 Cheyenne 1/2 ton could end up being Marge no. 2 if it doesn’t sell. 🙂
Don’t get me wrong…I like the new F-150. I like it a lot. I got one as a rental one weekend (they didn’t have the mid-size car I’d ordered) and it was a great ride. But I’ll take an old truck like Margie any time. They take on a personality at that age, and you know they’ll always do the job and get you home…and make you smile all the way.
I have owned three of those year Chevys/GMCs good trucks, through and through.
Great looking truck. Love the indian blanket too. Tom Daniel, designer for Monogram models, designed the hood on the ’62 – ’66 Chevy trucks. Always liked that hood.
I’m no GM man but I’ve always digged the “aerodynamic” treatments on the tippy-top part of the rooflines, both front and rear, on CHevy & GMC trucks of this vintage.
But the blanket’s got to go. Nothing makes these old trucks more enjoyable than a couple hours honest labor on the seat bottom–some steel repairs as needed, a sheet of carpet, a bit of foam, and a JC Whitney cover, lovingly applied with plenty of hog rings. And don’t forget the ArmorAll, so it’s easy to slide on.
But don’t change anything else. A truck needs character.
if it had 4wd I would kill for it. At the moment I am contemplating pulling the trigger on a 50’s Dodge M37 for a beater/hauler/hobby truck and to use for home renovation projects…
A friend of mine has a Stepside version of this rig complete with Patina and Boots stuck in the bed. I think there are pics on the Cohort but can’t remember my password right now..
His still makes regular trips from Il to La.
Found a pic. His Harley looks almost the same. She has no name, just Red Truck.
Ah, these, drove a ’65 3/4 ton version with the automatic years ago that some ex in-laws had, great for hauling stuff to the dump.
My best friend had a 62, I think it was GMC version of these and we’ve had some adventures in that one. He bought it from some fella who almost fried the electrics due to hooking up the battery backwards and yes, the cheap cassette deck was toast, but that was it.
It had the 3 on the tree, but the linkage was so loose, my buddy replaced it with a decent enough floor shifter.
One memorable trip, summer of 1997 when I needed to blow out of town, we decided to hop in that truck and take hwy 410, which becomes the Chinook Pass Rd across the Cascades to their mountain cabin that was in one of the national forests it runs through before ending in Naches Washington near Yakima in Eastern Washington.
We’d spent some time at the cabin and on the way back, stopped at a little town for gas and while filing up, my friend noted a rotten egg smell emanating from the engine compartment, it smelt like it was coming from the battery. But not thinking too much of it, he finished filling the tank and we took off. About a mile or so down the road, his gauges went wonky and we heard a blam!, then another blam! then a big ol BLAM!, the truck dies on the side of the road. What happened? the charging system was either over charging or not enough and the battery ceased to provide enough charge for the spark plugs and thus no spark and that was what we heard.
So we began to walk back up the road when a not very old Ford Explorer Sport stopped to see what we needed. it was a young lady teacher from Florida with a riding companion, a fellow from Australia and they were doing a country wide road trip for the summer and he met her in Alaska and went along for the ride, so they took us back up to the gas station we were just at to call for a tow. Found some towing company by the name of Ted’s Towing and called as it looked like it might be affordable. Once off the phone he bought with $3 bucks between us, a cheap 6pk of Bud beer (yech) and we got a ride back from these same people to the truck where we waited for the tow.
And while we waited for the tow, we drank some of the beer and listening to a mix tape I was playing via a boombox as that was the sound system in that old beast. We had visions of some old grizzly guy in a battered vintage Ford tow truck coming to rescue us, but no, a nicely groomed, bearded fella, in his forties in a modern Isuzu cab over flatbed tow truck arrived instead and he kindly took us and the truck on its flatbed to the town of Enumclaw, which is in eastern Pierce County on the Western side of the mountains were we live as at that time, we both lived in Seattle. I still do live here, but he now lives in Tacoma with his family.
Highway 410 runs through Enumclaw and ends at Sumner and the we were dropped off at the Napa Auto parts store there in 410, just after they’d closed as the town rolls up its sidewalks by 7pm.
He called his Dad, but they were having a family gathering so it’d be a while before they could come rescue us. While we waited at the truck, we talked, laughed and at one point, we sprinted across the freeway to the field on the other side and the tall grass and had a whiz and got more laughs. Eventually, we headed, on foot down the highway past the car dealers to a Mexican Restaurant that was open and had dinner.
We finally were picked up, but had to leave the truck as the voltage regulator his Dad and 2 of this 3 older brothers had brought didn’t solve the problem and we didn’t get to his parent’s house in Tacoma where he borrowed his Dad’s car and we didn’t get home until after midnight.
I forget now what the issue was, but the problem WAS solved though.