He used to have an early 80's Chevrolet C/K Custom Deluxe. We called the pickup truck Old Blue, mostly for the light blue exterior, partly for the aging reliability. This truck did not get babied. In fact, he beat the hell out of it. He hauled the building material for our house with it. It was his daily commuter to various carpentry jobs. Tool boxes scratched the paint, two by fours left dents in the tailgate, rocks had chipped away at the paint and chrome of the front end.
In August of 1989, I became another part of daily life for my dad and Old Blue. Playing out in the front yard, the Chevy sat on the dirt driveway. Always on the side of the garage by the railroad tracks: mom's car got the side closer to the house. Every now and then, I would sit on dad's lap and take Old Blue for a spin up the driveway to the edge of the road. I couldn't back up though, so I'd move over on the bench seat and let him do the hard part. Of course, I never moved all the way across the seat. I sat right next to him in the middle of the cab.
I was trained to like oldies and early classic rock. Everywhere we went, the old analog radio was tuned to Oldies 103.3. Credence Clearwater Revival, the Beach Boys, Elvis Presley, all the good tunes. On the way to school one day in second grade, one of my favorite songs came on. American Pie, by Don McLean. Since the eight minute song outlasted the three minute ride to school, I sat the extra five minutes in the truck until the song ended. Backpack slung over my little shoulder, I jumped out of the truck.
“Bye dad! I'll see you after school!”
Around the end of the 90's, Old Blue was retired and replaced by a '97 Chevrolet W/T. This new work truck was a tan color and we didn't have any nicknames for it. The loss of the Old Chevy weighed heavy in my heart, as change didn't happen often. I did grow to love the new truck, though. Sure enough, jumping in, I'd take my place next to dad right in the middle of the new bench seat.
The Shea family saw the addition of a new member early in this truck's life. A young black lab pup named Wylie quickly became an important part of our lives. Before long, anywhere dad and I went, so did Wylie. I had been growing older, so I began to move further across the cloth bench seat. Wylie took my old spot in the middle between dad and I.
One evening after school, I asked a normal question. “Hey dad, can I go up to Mike's?”
“Sure, take the truck!” I thought he was joking, since I was only fifteen. Turns out he wasn't, and even mom said 'alright'. It would have been foolish of me to turn down that offer, so I left home in the Chevy alone for the first time, American Pie playing over the radio.
I took my driving test in that truck, and dad waited the intolerable five hours it took at the DMV, proud of me when I returned from the road test triumphantly. This Chevy had a couple more years of wear and tear put on it until 2009 came around. Time for another truck.
A black 2009 Chevrolet Silverado 1500 was the truck of choice. Crank windows. A/C. None of the bells and whistles that vehicles are coming with these days. 'I don't need any of these things. I just need the basics.' Dad would get frustrated at the lack of basic amenities during the truck shopping.
Now when we go places, we've switched seats. I'll do the driving, dad does the riding. Wylie, who has grown some of those distinguished gray chin hairs, still rides in the middle. Being away at college now, I don't see them much. A couple times a month I'll take my own car to the old homestead. The black Silverado is usually sitting outside on the now paved driveway, still on the side closer to the railroad tracks. Mom still parks closest to the house. There's usually a couple of two by fours in the bed of that truck for one reason or another, and the dents and scratches are accumulating quickly.
American Pie is still one of my favorite songs, stretching over the course of my short life. A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. It still does. I know it backwards and forwards, and it never fails; I will sing it. Every time I do, images of the Chevrolet trucks and riding side by side with dad fill my empty head.
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