When I was 14 our neighbor, Bob, who lived just a couple of houses away asked me if I wanted to help him from time to time with an old truck he was trying to get running. I did and it turned out to be a wonderful experience that provided me with some very special lifelong lessons.
Bob was a mechanic by trade and a mechanic by hobby. He was employed as a semi-tractor mechanic and then in the evenings or whenever he had free time, he kept busy with his hobby. He drove his ‘49 Dodge pickup or his ‘38 Chevy coupe back and forth to work. He also had a ‘59 Ford retractable (hardtop convertible) and a Model A. He had a couple of other vehicles, but I can’t remember them all. The truck he wanted to get running was a 1947 Ford pickup.
Over the next year and a half or more, I helped him, as much as I could with the truck. We pulled the engine and put in a better flathead 8 motor. We replaced the brakes, changed all the tires, tuned up the engine, and before long, Bob had the truck purring like a kitten. There was only bugaboo. He was never able to locate a starter. He searched high and low and checked every junkyard all to no avail. But the truck still ran well and all that was needed was a slope to get the engine started.
After I turned 16 and got my driver’s license, Bob asked me if I wanted to buy the truck. I thought he was kidding. I figured his plan was to keep it, paint it and add it to his collection. I told him I didn’t have enough money to buy the truck. He then told me he’d sell the truck to me for $25.00. Soon I was driving around in my new (to me) pickup. The truck had a piston head from a lawnmower for a stick-shift knob. This alone made the truck cool and of course, made the driver look pretty cool too.
Bob’s generosity didn’t end with the $25.00 sale. He would stop by once in a while to let me know when he found some better tires at a junkyard that fit the truck. He’d tell me to come down to his house and we’d change out a couple of tires. I never had to buy a tire for the truck, even though I was wearing them down kind of fast trying to lay rubber on the asphalt.
I generally parked the truck on the street in front of our house. Since we lived on a fairly steep hill, it was easy to start the truck every morning by popping the clutch.
One morning before I left for school, there was a knock on the backdoor. It was my Uncle Pat who owned the lumber yard at the bottom of our hill. I answered the door and he asked me a strange question. “Why did you park your truck in my office last night?” I had no idea what he was talking about. He led me out to the street in front of our house. The truck was not parked in its usual spot. Pat pointed to the bottom of the hill and there was my truck crashed into and through the corner of the lumber office. I was shocked, to say the least. My uncle, who like the rest of our family, had a great sense of humor, seemed to think it was kind of funny. Upon further investigation, it was obvious someone had turned the truck tires away from the curb, shifted it to neutral, and let it go. The truck had a locking steering wheel. Without the key, the steering could be turned one way, but then when the wheel was turned back it would lock. The steering was locked in the opposite direction as it had been parked. I was thankful the truck didn’t end up in someone’s house on the way down the hill or crash into the giant oil tanks that stood just across the railroad tracks beyond the lumber office.
We towed the truck back up the hill and put it in our yard. Of course, when Bob got home from work that afternoon, he stopped to closely examine the damage. Those old trucks were well built with thick metal. The passenger side front fender was caved in and that was pretty much the extent of the damage. Bob told me that he’d start looking for a fender in the junkyards. Before long, he found one, and together we had the fender replaced in no time. I was back on the road and there was no charge for the fender or the work.
The summer after I graduated high school I got a job about 45 miles from home. I rode to work with other guys as much as possible. However, having a regular job was going to mean I would be needing a more reliable vehicle sooner or later. The truck ran well enough to make the 90-mile round trip commute. However, the bigger problem was that where I was working had a perfectly flat parking lot. That meant I didn’t have a way to start the truck. I still used the truck now and then, but over time the truck became a yard ornament.
It was Bob-time again. He stopped by one day and told me that he had found a ‘47 Ford panel truck body and that he’d like to buy the truck back if I’d sell it. His plan was to use the frame and replace the pickup body with the panel truck body. I told him that he didn’t need to buy it back and that I’d just sign the title over to him. I said, “Bob, you kept it running all the time I was in high school. You kept me in tires and repaired the truck when it got wrecked. You don’t need to give me anything for the truck.” But Bob had to be Bob. He pulled $25.00 out of his pocket and insisted I take it.
Bob taught me a lot. He taught me about character, integrity, generosity, and going above and beyond being a good neighbor. He taught me how important it is to be generous with our time, our knowledge, and our skills. If we do that, I think we will eliminate a lot of regrets as we look back on our lives.
Wouldn't it be great if there were a lot more Bobs in the world?
There have been times when I’ve wished I would have hung on to that truck and really fixed it up. It would have been wonderful to drop in a brand new motor, transmission, A/C, and give it a super sharp paint job. Maybe even include a starter in the makeover. However, there would have been one really big problem for me trying to accomplish all that. You see there was something else I learned from Bob’s mechanic lessons that I never had the heart to tell him. Even though what he taught me has helped me get out of a breakdown jam a time or two, I also learned that I absolutely hate working on cars and trucks. Regardless, I'm better for the experience.
Thank you Bob for the character lessons. Thank you for convincing me to hire mechanics.
Hebrews 13:16 Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.
Photo: Me with my first serious girlfriend in front of “the truck”.