It’s amazing what one can forget about having on their hard drive. Perhaps better organization of my pictures would cure that, but the thrill of (re)discovery would be gone. Besides, this assortment of pictures isn’t exactly the most organized anyway as it’s a hodgepodge of pictures over a roughly forty year timespan.
So let’s go on a journey.
This lead picture is from June of 1967. It’s my late grandfather Alfred (in shorts and previously referred to as Albert) with his brother-in-law John. John worked in the oil industry in Houston and this 1967 Ford Custom was his company car at the time.
Note the oil derrick in the background.
Here’s another picture of them after an October 1960 fishing trip. I strongly suspect this was taken at my grandparent’s house south of Cape Girardeau, Missouri. They would move to a different house the next year.
This picture is scary – my grandfather, on the right, was 36 years old in this picture, making him a decade younger than I am now. Further, I’m almost to the age he was when I was born.
It seems holding one’s catch for the camera is a long-standing tradition. Yes, that’s me at age 16 holding the catfish. I’m not sure why I look so unenthused.
Behind me is the 1984 Ford F-150 my parents owned. Under the hood is Ford’s most magnificent engineering achievement, a cast-iron testament to Ford’s prowess, an engine that creates indescribable euphoria in everyone who experiences its never-ending charms. With a monumental 0.38 horsepower per cubic inch, the Ford 300 straight-six is undoubtedly the eighth wonder of the world, perhaps the most perfect engine ever.
Yeah, that’s baloney. Not only was this pickup robustly lackadaisical it was also remarkably thirsty, a bad combination that kills any hope for feeling the love. To be fair, that time period wasn’t exactly a peak period for engine output.
This pickup would live its next life working as a trash truck in the small towns of Anna and Jonesboro, Illinois.
My low tolerance for lackadaisical behavior also explains why I wore out the carpet under the accelerator pedal of my 1989 Ford Mustang LX with its ground-pounding 2.3 liter four. Pressing the pedal and receiving nothing in return quickly grows tedious. In a weird way, I almost miss that car…but it really needed a 5.0.
The toolshed in the background belonged to Orville, somebody we’ve met.
Since I mentioned my great-uncle John, I have to show this picture. All three vehicles have been inspiration at various times for these pages. The 1975 to 1978 Mercury Marquis belonged to John and his wife, my grandmother’s sister Mary, who lived in Cut and Shoot, Texas. The 1979 Chevrolet pickup was my grandfather’s. The red 1984 or 1985 Buick LeSabre belonged to my late Uncle Tom.
The girl with the horrendous glasses is my little sister; the younger girl is Tom’s daughter Holly. Holly is now 35. That’s also scary.
I was sixteen years old and 155 pounds when I posed for this picture in front of our father’s 1988 Ford Tempo. Little sister recently called me a very bad name, thinking I have not gained weight since this picture was taken in 1989. Wrong.
Of that 155 pounds, I think about eight of those were hair.
Little sister should be less forgetful with he who blogs and has pictures. She’s the one who reconfigured her 1992 Ford Tempo, seen here, due to her inability to stay between ditches.
Little sister did one hell of a job, didn’t she? While I was following the Tempo when it was on the roll-back, it was spraying antifreeze all over my Mustang. Did you know antifreeze smears nicely on glass?
Speaking of doing a hell of a job, here’s a Ford we’ve seen before. It’s rather appropriate as the hood is up. The hood is up on it as I type this. I took it for a few drives earlier this summer. All but one were uneventful.
Directly behind it is the red 1962 Galaxie I also had. In the upper right is the 1988 Tempo and my parent’s 1991 Dodge Dynasty. The dark car slightly in front of the Tempo is likely my Mustang.
This was taken in either 1994 or 1995 as my parents had just purchased this house in Alto Pass, Illinois. They sold it last year when they moved to nearby Cape Girardeau.
Of everything I’ve owned, here’s the car I should have kept. It’s my 1975 Ford Thunderbird. That was a great car, perhaps in my Top 5 of all time. It was comfortable and phenomenally quiet. It was a great color and it handled much better than most would think. The response of its 460, unlike the drivetrains in some F-150s and Mustangs I’ve mentioned, didn’t infuriate a person, and it got better fuel economy than the aforementioned F-150.
I have the original bill of sale for this Thunderbird. It was nearly $10,000 when new.
Given the location being just far enough south, this amount of snow nearly qualifies as being a blizzard. Yes, I know this is likely just a heavy frost in some parts of the world.
Parked behind my Thunderbird is my father’s 1998 Dodge Ram 1500. He purchased this pickup new and he still has it. Like the Thunderbird, its drivetrain doesn’t generate scorn – it has a 5.9 liter V8 that responds quite well when called upon.
My mother is tired of it filling up the garage in their new house as it is competing for space with all my father’s S.H.I.T. (his Sizable Hoard of Ignored Treasures). We’ll see how that plays out.
Growing up, my family took a trip somewhere every year. Some years were further away from home than others. All the trips were great but I really enjoyed going south; perhaps it is the food, perhaps it is the warmer weather.
Here I am on one such trip standing with my parent’s 1985 Ford LTD Crown Victoria.
I have no clue where this was taken other than at a restaurant which served crab. That really doesn’t narrow it down much, however I believe it was somewhere along the Gulf coast. It’s been too long to say with certainty.
Seeing the (incorrectly spelled for me) name prompted the stop to get a picture. There is no note of location, although a little googling turned up the likely location…
Schafer Chevrolet, now devoid of Pontiac, is located in Pinconning, Michigan. The building facade has changed but everything else appears similar enough to be convincing.
Note all the Impalas.
When traveling I have tended to be like others in my family by preferring to drive. We fly on rare occasion although we never took a boat. I mention this as this is the remains of an old steamboat that met its demise on the Mississippi River. This no doubt ruined a few people’s trips back in the day.
It’s amazing what one can see when the water level in the river goes down.
Steamboats were stylish, however…
A 1956 Ford Victoria seems just a bit more stylish. That’s my ten year-old mother in the middle with her younger sister and their aunt.
I hope you enjoyed these. There will be more as pictures turn up!