“Frankentruck”

c. 2017 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(12-17)

Readers Note: I have observed in the past that the best newspaper columns seem to write themselves. What follows here proves that maxim once again. While doing research for a holiday manuscript, I stumbled upon a Ford truck advertised on Craigslist. The result is this extra journey through my family history, written while continuing to reflect on seasonal memories.

Three from one.

I have often observed that we three children of my particular Ice generation split our father’s personality into equal parts. Each of us seem to reflect a different portion of his total identity. My sister has his patience and faith. Thus, she is the rock foundation of our family group and a patient adviser. I inherited the creative bent and have been involved in writing and music nearly since birth. This has steered me toward a variety of projects that have, like those of my sire, failed in financial terms while providing much enlightenment and adventure. Finally, my brother reflects the rural ingenuity of a fellow raised on a farm by an engineering professor with a frugal disposition. As the youngest sibling, he refused to let birth order place him in the shadows of those who had come before. In particular, he displayed a keen ability to fix things with very little money. Once, he bought a Pontiac Catalina for $175 and then sold it for parts, after a long period of use as a daily driver, for over $300. On another occasion, he replaced the rear axle in a Galaxie 500 behind our home with nothing more than a pair of jack stands and a few common tools.

In other words, little bro always loved to tinker, like our dad. It was a useful talent to have in a family not blessed with great monetary resources.

I reckon that my brother has easily owned more than a hundred cars in his lifetime. Some provided stories that I used in my bygone column for the Geauga County Maple Leaf newspaper. In particular, I recall writing about a ratty, red Buick Regal that he drove in the 1980’s. As we were crossing Chardon on a run for supplies (likely potato chips and cold beer) the acrid smell of chemical smoke became alarming. Upon pulling over, he realized that the floor was completely rusted away underneath the rear carpet. This sheath of reinforced cloth had dropped onto the muffler system, which set it on fire. Fortunately, no injury resulted, or significant damage to the car. In personal terms, I was glad for another story to tell. He continued to use the Regal until a better alternative could be found.

At another point in our youth, both of us had Ford Econoline vans. His was more stylish, a dark blue ‘Super Van’ with power steering, an automatic transmission, and chrome bumpers. Mine was a one-ton cargo hauler with a steering wheel like a school bus and a three-speed manual on the column. (Three-on-the-tree.) It had been sprayed Army green, and came up for sale at an auction in Pennsylvania. The family nicknamed it ‘Godzilla.’ From the driver’s seat, it felt like navigating streets in a living room on wheels. But the utility of my van became so indispensable that my next vehicle was a full-fledged pickup truck.

Most famously, my brother once acquired a Ford F-250 from the mid-70’s which had been sold as a camper special. (Slide in campers having still been popular in those yonder days.) It needed a motor which he already had on hand from an old police cruiser. Restoring the vehicle also meant using junkyard body parts to save cash. The yield was a sturdy beast with plenty of horsepower but not much visual appeal. The vehicle was several different colors in hue. It got the nickname ‘Frankentruck’ as an honest tribute to its stout nature and homely looks.

Being teased about his ride only intensified a desire to be seen and conquer detractors. In a stunning moment of braggadocio, he took the truck from Chardon to our local, iconic venue, Thompson Drag Raceway (now Thompson Raceway Park). After a reception of loud guffaws and rude comments, he raced the F-250 and actually won in competition. Most satisfying was a match against a sleek Olds Cutlass with a big-block 350 V-8. He bested the desirable chariot easily. Something its owner took as a bit of an insult. Though merely a footnote in the storied history of this rural dragstrip, his escapades became an enduring part of Ice family lore.

With the passage of years, my younger brother became a professional driver and crossed the nation many times. Then, age and health issues took their toll. But the story of his pickup-of-many-colors was passed onward to generations of the family that followed. We would never forget the Frankentruck. Or such memories, which seem especially poignant around the Yuletide season.

Merry Christmas to you, my brother.

Comments or questions about ‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to: icewritesforyou@gmail.com

Write us at: P.O. Box 365 Chardon, OH 44024

Published regularly in the Geauga Independent