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Show ::::rr: MlaDnnmntanim P0 byNanChalat Missing Old Green Whenever my car screams at me for leaving the key in the ignition or forgetting to fasten my seat belt I think about Old Green, our '51 Chevy, seven-window cab half-ton half-ton truck. Green was too dignified to buzz or bleep. You could leave the key in the ignition for five or six months (as we often did) and Green didn't mind a bit. The key was just a formality and, in a pinch, Green would even run without it. We found Green seven years ago, sitting in an empty lot beside the Coalition Mine building with a handwritten For Sale sign in the front window. Green belonged to Leroy, who was offering it for $600, but he didn't have the title. So we had to hunt down Green's roots before laying down any hard cash. But it was worth it. That fall Green helped us haul six cords of firewood down from the Uintas. It carried manure for our garden, lumber for a construction job, a litter of new pups and a neighbor's horse. In the dead of that winter, when neither the Volkswagen nor the Renault (each at least a decade younger than Green) would start, we hiked out to Old Green, which had been parked behind the shed for two months. There must have been two feet of snow on the engine hood and we could barely see the hub caps above the snow drifts. But when we turned the key and pressed the ignition button, Green hummed into action. For the rest of the winter, Green was our snow plow, commuter vehicle, limousine and tow truck. In first gear, it could move mountains of snow or pull trucks three times its size back onto the highway. When the temperature dropped below zero, our friends knew they could call on us for a jump. To be honest, our popularity that winter was due in large measure to Old Green. Granted, Green was lacking in a number of modern options. There was no tape deck and the windshield wipers had to be operated manually with a pair of vise grips that hung from a leather thong from the dashboard. There was no air conditioning and not much heat, but there was plenty of room, real leather upholstery and wraparound windows behind the driver and passenger. That spring we tried to repay Green for a winter of dedicated service. We spent the first warm afternoon washing and waxing Green and checking under the hood. Everything seemed to be fine. The Renault and the Volks finally thawed out and Green went back into semiretirement. We used it for chores and short trips to the lake, but it never left the valley. Unfortunately, we did. We drove across the country in the Volkswagen, which broke down repeatedly and all the way there and back we longed for our trusty truck. Unbeknownest to us, however, a friend had borrowed Green for a night on the town in Salt Lake City. Now, you and I know Green was not a city truck. Green's strong suit was pulling stumps and puttering down the lane. It was not meant to go 55 mph and somewhere along the way toward the summit it overheated. Our friend refilled the radiator with water and during the first chilly night in October the engine block froze and cracked. We hired a welder to repair the block, but Green was never the same. Finally, a city slicker from Houston waved us down at the post office and made us an offer we couldn't refuse. With a promise to restore Green to absolutely ab-solutely cherry condition, he loaded it onto a flatbed and we waved goodbye to the best Detroit ever made. |