If a person doesn't mind sitting through all of the commercials cable TV was promised to be free of when it first appeared, there's some pretty neat stuff to be seen. I'm not exactly sure why, but one of my favorite networks is HGTV. Maybe it's because I can completely rebuild my entire house seven times in one day without ever having to leave the comfort of my own couch. I think I could probably be a designer on one of those shows where the host cruises the local scrapyards, and then goes home and makes something cool with the junk he found. Of course, that's if there's no discrimination preventing heterosexual designers from having their own show. One of my favorite creations is the bed I made for my girlfriend and I. Before my girlfriend moved in, it was just myself and five mixed-breed dogs. In the wintertime, the dogs would all jump on the bed and either sleep next to me, or on top of me. Then the girl came, and something had to be done about the dogs. The first matter dealt with curing canine flatulence, but I don't think it would be appropriate to discuss that here. Moving on to the pup's habit of jumping up on the bed, I went out into the garage and robbed a set of custom-fabricated steel sawhorses from underneath a bare '56 Ford frame and dragged them into the master bedroom. To make a little extra floor space in the master I rolled my Shovelhead Harley out into the living room to graze along side of my 100th Anniversary Sportster with 400 original miles. Next, I cut 2 feet off the end of a 4x8 sheet of 1-inch marine-grade plywood, and then plopped it on top of the steel sawhorses. A quick trip to Sam's Club in my trusty '79 Chevy, and I had the mattress in back and headed for home. With the bed elevated, it not only solved the original problem, but as an added bonus provided an additional 32 square feet of storage space for new truck parts.
Whether it's creating a unique bed, or trying to figure out how to adapt modern amenities to fit into a vintage truck's smaller cab, design is all about function. Of course, a strict adherence to the adage "form follows function" and a person can end up with a real ugly truck, or one that is, as they say on designer TV, "aesthetically unpleasing." For me, when it comes to the interior of a truck, there's nothing much worse than spotting a poorly concealed A/C system, or a bulky steering column scavenged from a late-model car. I know there's going to be someone out there with a maroon plastic airbag tilt and telescopic steering column with cruise control robbed from a Park Avenue. That person might ask who am I to say what looks good in their truck. Trust me, with a plywood bed elevated 4 feet up in the air on sawhorses I understand, but it's not quite the same. You see, the difference is that my bed isn't out in the public domain for all to view. Beyond selfish interests, one has to think about the children. Imagine if a kid was all excited about spotting a cool custom classic truck only to run up to it and get an eyeful of a hideous late-model steering column. Surely it would be an event that would scar the poor little feller for the rest of his life.
Getting back to discrimination: Does this mean that only trucks deemed cool by the editor are going to be able to get into the magazine? No, of course not. As I've stated in the past, everyone is welcome at Custom Classic Trucks ... unless there's a Sears aluminum dryer duct protruding from the dashboard with A/C vents stuck on the ends. If a truck like that doesn't appear in CCT, it's not because of me-it's for the children.-John Gilbert