Though the world changes around me every day, with old buildings coming down and new ones going up, I am the same as I was when I first came off the assembly line more than 50 years ago — strong, sharp, and ready to do whatever is expected of me.
Like on that March afternoon in 1965 when the whole town celebrated the Springboro boys’ basketball team's return from the state basketball tournament. My owners, Bud and Phyllis and the kids, didn’t know anyone on the team personally, but they were as swept up in the excitement as everyone else. On a moment’s notice they piled in and and I took them for a ride to see the parade.
Like that June morning in 1972 when tents and booths were needed to set up the summer festival, which shut down Main Street for an entire week. Bud and I hauled a thousand items for Lion’s Club members Bill Crocker, P.B. Stockman, Ralph Wade, Dick Chenault, and Mother’s Club members Myrtle Reedy, Evalyn Harris, Peg Leisz…and many more. We worked hard to get everything ready. Boy, I slept good that night.
Like that hot August day in 1979 when Sam, the youngest of Bud and Phyllis’s kids, left for his freshman year at Ohio State. They loaded me up with boxes and suitcases and an old couch that had been in the basement and I boldly made my way north. On the way home, while Phyllis sobbed uncontrollably, I worked extra hard so the ride home was a little more comfortable. I think she noticed, too.
…
I AM MORE than just some old truck.
I am a member of the family. I am part of my town’s history.
I have been everywhere and know just about everybody. I made trips to the Springboro IGA no less than 8,000 times, until it closed. I know every inch of the way to Springboro High School (all three of them that have existed in my days). And I can still climb that testy part of Bunnell Hill Road out near Lower Springboro Road, just as well as the young trucks do.
Though other trucks have come and gone in the last six decades, I keep doing. I always have.
Like that cold Sunday morning in February 1983 when Rev. Dawes thought he might have to cancel church because of all the snow. Bud had the idea of using me as a bus service and I didn’t mind. So we spent the morning getting people to the Springboro Christian Church, and I did all of it without a single complaint. Many people were blessed that day.
Like that Friday night in October 1991 when I led a caravan of Springboro fans down Rt. 741 to Kings, where the Panthers played the Knights for a conference championship. Bud and his friend talked about how much fun it had been to watch Bobby Anderson, Chad Dixon, Todd Worthington, and Steve Agenbroad and their teammates all season. Though the game hadn’t gone as they wanted, Bud promised to send a note to head coach Dave Stuckey, congratulating him on such a great season.
Like that snowy morning in January 2001 when Phyllis had to be rushed to Dr. Swope’s office because of heart palpitations. Though I’d spent the night on freezing temperatures, I started right up and got us on our way. And though the roads were slick from all the snow and ice, I was fast and steady the whole way. Dr. Swope healed her right quick, though she had to stay off the hot taco sauce for a while.
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THERE ARE VESSELS that do much more important things than I do. Some are bigger and carry tanks into war, others are much faster and get people from one side of the country to the other in just a few hours. But I am content to be myself, and do what I can.
My AM radio used to belt out the top 40 hits on Cincinnati’s WSAI many years ago when the kids were young, but now Bud keeps it on 700 WLW. Through the newscasts, I’ve listened how America persevered through the riots of ’68, the energy crisis of ’77, the stock market crash in ’87, the terrorist attacks on 9/11, and the recession of 2008. Now I hear the ways America will get through the current pandemic.
Perseverance is the key. It is the single most important quality to get through this life. I know I cannot go as fast as I once did, and I need more frequent stops on longer trips, but if I stay focused and stay the course, I can continue to be useful.
Like I was in 2005 when I took Bud and Phyllis to attorney Tom Kirby’s office to handle the estate when Phyllis’s mother died. Like in 2012 when I got some dedicated fans to a Springboro girls’ basketball tournament game. And like in 2016 when I helped Mayor John Agenbroad by getting extra materials delivered for the Veteran’s Memorial located on the north end of town. I've done thousands of things for many people.
I am more than just an old truck. I am a member of the family. I am an important part of this town.
Whatever is needed, one thing is for sure: I am ready.
I'll be there.
…
(Jeff’s note: Obviously, I’ve let my imagination run a little with this story. Please don’t ask me why you don’t remember Bud and Phyllis. Even worse, please don’t tell me that you do. I just loved this photograph I was fortunate to capture last Sunday night, and I decided to think up -- call it an artistic license -- a few words to go along with it. Thanks.)