May 2 was a big day in the life of my husband’s truck. It’s 55 years old. He’s owned it for 32 years. On May 2, it went to a new home.
(It’s a great story, actually.)
In 1965, a man named Ennis paid $3,500 for a brand new Ford F100 to give the son he hoped to have one day.
He did have a son. But when Derek got old enough to be given the truck, he told Ennis he didn’t want it. He wanted an IROC-Z.
Now Ennis and my father-in-law Holiday worked together for the railroad. Ennis sold the F100 to Holiday for $1,000.
Holiday was offered $3,000 for the truck as he drove it home. He declined the offer and gave the F100 to my husband as an 18th birthday gift.
Kelly drove it his senior year in high school, throughout community college and university, and even drove it to Dallas when he moved there to work for the IRS. The F100, now known as Old Glory, was his main form of transportation.
Old Glory helped with many moves, fun trips and holds more than a few memories known only to Kelly.
She had first place in his heart. In fact, when he asked me to marry him he said Old Glory was part of the deal.
She patiently waited at a friend’s house while we lived in England for three years. In return, we treated her right – even let her stay in our garage while newer vehicles slummed it on the driveway, exposed to the elements.
Early last year Kelly casually mentioned that Derek had tracked him down on Facebook. He hoped Kelly would sell him the truck if he ever decided to part with it.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“He asks every six months or so and I’ve said I’m not interested.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Nearly two years now.”
Fast forward to December last year. My husband decided to track down his birth father.
His dad, Holiday (they adopted each other when Kelly turned 18), had encouraged him for years to reconcile and get to know his birth dad.
They found each other and started regularly spending time together.
Fitting in the missing piece of his life story had a strange impact on Kelly.
This February he told me he texted Derek and was going to give him the truck.
“Derek wants to restore the truck with his son. And a father should be able to make memories like that with his son.”
“How much are you going to sell it for?”
“I’m going to give it to him.”
“Shouldn’t he pay you? You took care of it for 32 years!”
“Don’t you think he’s probably paid a lot already for his bad decision 32 years ago?”
So Kelly got the truck running, reregistered and was ready to take it to Derek in time to surprise Derek’s son for his 18th birthday. Just like Holiday surprised Kelly for his 18th birthday.
But then COVID-19 hit and we couldn’t make the trip.
With restrictions loosening and good weather, we decided May 2 was the day.
Ironically, it was also the 22nd anniversary of the first time Kelly kissed me.
He told me to wait an hour and then leave to meet him at his parents’ house. He wanted to make one last drive with Old Glory, so they could tell each other stories and remember how much they loved each other.
When I got there, Derek and his son were there, the title had been signed over and everyone was happy. Holiday thought it was the best thing his son Kelly could have ever done for his friend Ennis’ son, Derek and Derek’s son.
They’re going to restore her together. But they want to keep a little of her rust and some of the dents – Kelly told them the stories of every one. They’re also going to call her Old Glory.
And if, for any reason, they can’t keep her any longer, Derek promised to call Kelly.
And that, my friends, is the story of a very special Ford F100 and fathers and sons.
Goodbye Old Glory. Thanks for the memories.
Postscript – we drove to visit Kelly’s birth dad after handing off Old Glory. A young female dog ran up to us. His birth dad said she’d been dumped there a week earlier. We put her in the car and took her home.
Her name is now Glory.
