Scars
When one has had their truck as long as 88-year-old Harold Plaster, they're bound to have a few memories. Especially for Harold, seeing that he has had his Model A pickup since clear back to 1938! With the help of friend Jim Loffredo, Harold sent us this little story and a few pictures from his Valdez, Alaska, home about his Model A pickup:

"My truck has scars. They are remnants of a life lived to the fullest, and I treasure them, every one. I am old and so is my truck, but once we were both young, ready to roll without a mark on us or a squeak or rattle. Back then, I worried and fretted about my truck, back in 1938. Oh yeah, I hot-rodded it out with a flathead V-8.

"Every little chip, scratch, or scuff brought a knot to my stomach. I worked so hard on that truck, and at the time I thought it was perfect. I didn't know any better. The day my son played with a toy car on the window, scratching deep lines in it, gave me a flare of anger, and then despair. He was 3 then; now he is grown and gone. I'm alone now, except for my truck, still with the scratches on the window. I love those scratches now. I look at them often; they bring a tear to my eye. How nave a young man can be.

"Some of the paint is missing on the back fenders where hot rubber stuck to it while the tires were roasted. I was 23 then, and me and the boys were burning J-hooks in the hills of Pennsylvania. To accomplish a good J-hook, one had to start on a steep hill, burning rubber as you drifted backward until the hookup made a J pattern of burnt and smoking rubber on the road. Youthful exuberance!

"My hood and grille is dimpled with hundreds of chips, and my windshield is cracked from a rock chip. All this happened when I drove my truck to Alaska in 1968 to work in the oil fields. It was a time of adventure, and the world was open to me. After all, I had my truck and my youth. I thought both would last forever.

"I still drive my truck sometimes. I can't see well at night, so I drive during the day. Sometimes I haul some hay or feed for the horses from the feed store. When I look at the scars on my truck, I remember, and now after all these years I smile."