Memories of the 51 Ford

I wasn't even thought of when dad brought the 51 for the farm. The truck was needed for a host of different jobs from hauling trash off and firewood in for the winter, to feeding silage to the dairy herd.  The eight foot dump bed made unloading a piece of cake. 

In the early seventies I was big enough to be out and about a little on my own. Dad had brought a gallon of Red oil based paint and allowed me to paint my little wagon red. Then a few days later he said something about needing to get the old truck painted to keep it from rusting. 

A few weeks later knowing how Daddy liked surprises , I enlisted the help of my nieces to paint the truck early one Sunday morning before church. In no time flat the old blue truck was barn paint red! Little did we notice we had gotten almost more paint on us than the truck. Mom hollered for us to come in to leave for church, finding us covered in oil based paint! 

Dad went to work in taking the paint of with the only product he knew would work quickly. We were stripped down and basically given a bath in gas! Then to the tub and we all made it to church on time.  

A few weeks later, with the issue of rust still heavy on my mind, dad was greasing equipment. I asked why he greased it. It he explained the grease kept thing from wearing out and rusting. 

A few days later I climbed up in the truck and noticed some rust on the metal dash. Not having any paint left I knew exactly what to do.  I ran down to the shop and grabbed a can of axle grease and back to the truck I went. 

Everything and I mean everything got a heavy coat of grease. The dash, roof, steering wheel, door knobs and petals. Anything which had metal exposed got greased. Luckily the seat was spared! Good thing dad had never greased a horse saddle in front of me. 

Dad found the grease job a few days later, and wasn’t very happy as it took him most of the day to remove most of the grease and in some spots grease still remains to this day.  

Technology Can Save You Money

One of the benefits of having a job on the road is being able to carry a fishing pole along the way.  Being on the road trucking due to federal regulations, I can work six days (70 hours) then have to take a 34 hour break. This allows for some great fishing opportunities where i could never dream of getting to without being paid to get there.  

      One memorable run Thomas and I made out into Oregon, along  the Washington border was to the Columbia River which separates the states.  We had to take a break near Hermingston,  Oregon and finally found a place near the Chamber of Commerce office where we could get the bobtail tractor close to the water. 

      The river is bigger than the Mississippi at Memphis and has numerous dams along it to promote commerce and power production.  Being close to the Pacific Ocean it also boast plenty of salmon running up it to spawn.  Due to the spawning salmon, fish ladders and observation windows have been made at the dams to allow them to complete the spawning run each year.  Technology also allows biologist to keep accurate count of how many salmon go through the fish ladder each season.  

      Looking at new water to fish, Thomas and I decided to look at structure close enough to the bank to hold fish.  As we parked near a bridge, we headed to it to take advantage of the piers of the bridge and currents around it in hopes of finding a fish or two.  It only took a couple cast with a rooster tail to get a strike.  

      Using a lite action rod, I missed the set on the fish but it didn't take long before Thomas hooked up with a small mouth and landed it.  I eventually caught a small crappie as we had fun searching the river bank.  

    The trucking job has allowed me to fish since in several states, from retention ponds at truck stops holding small pan fish in several states to lakes in Wisconsin and Saltwater areas of Louisiana.  

On my last trip down near New Orleans, I had planned to stop at the Irish Bayou Truck Stop, which was right across the road from Lake Borgne just below Lake Pontchartrain which has enough saltwater content to have redfish and sea trout for the taking.  

      As I turned off I-10 to the truck stop I was met by barriers where the truck stop had closed. With no where else to park besides in the city of New Orleans, I was glad I didn't get a fishing license at Walmart as I had internet access and have purchased several licenses on line. This is one time I can truly say, technology saved me some cash.  

Pat Roberson: Make Memories While You Can

It really doesn’t seem possible, two years have flown by. Not a day hardly goes by which I don’t think about dad since he died. I knew the day would come as he was exceeding his on expectations of life.  Many years ago he said Roberson men lived to about 85 and he expected the same for himself. 

However at the age of 85 dad was still getting around fairly good. We had given up on our annual spring red eye fishing trips up on the upper part of the river as dad’s balance was a bit wobbly. Walking logs on drifts in the river could have easily caused a problem. 

But even sitting on a creek bank or a boat seat some things would go downhill and I would have to fish him out. One such episode we were in the Jon boat and Dad started getting stiff as arthritis was setting in. He set a five gallon bucket on top of the seat and proceeded to fish. On about his third cast it happened as I had warned him. All I saw was elbows and heels going overboard. I thought for a second he stuck his head in the mud on bottom but he popped up with no problem. I l knew he lost his pole and after going to the bank, I jumped in and retrieved his pole. Then about thirty minutes later he realized his new glasses were also on bottom of the pond. I jumped back in barefoot and found them also. 

As life went on, fishing became more difficult as he had trouble remembering how to operate a reel but after a couple fish hit the bank he picked up just like old times except he would tire out quickly. The spring I was able to take him, I had hopes of him catching a fish for each year of life. And at the age of 92 we managed to do it.

Of course fishing wasn’t the only memory as I tried to take him buck hunting every fall. The later years mainly consisted of driving up to a food plot and letting him sit in the truck and hope for something to walk out. Occasionally one would but he was unable to bring home the meat. 

Memories will last a lifetime and I will never regret spending time with dad. Many kids don’t get to spend fifty years with their parents as I have. Time is short, always try to make the best of it. 

Introducing Pat Roberson as the River Rambler

With the change of seasons so it is time for another change in life.It is high time that the river rambler comes back. Thanks to Boring’s Ginseng Roots and Herbs it again is possible to take back to writing about the great outdoors and life in general. 

Maybe things of changed over the years. Most of which is centered around family and career.  I have left the medical field and obtained my CDL for driving big rigs and now enjoy traveling for a living. This in itself is a process of a dream Carolyn and I had years ago to travel and see America. 

She hasn’t traveled out of state with me yet but in coming years this will become a reality if all goes well. So far I have been in 44 of the lower 48 states and still lack seeing the upper north east states. 

Family also has changed a lot over the years. Dad and my mother in law, Uncle Sam and Aunt Annie have passed on to their reward. Mom still doing fair but better than most who are in their nineties.  Thomas drove team truck with me for a while but after meeting Autumn who is now my daughter in law, and having a daughter of his own, he now works in the chicken industry at home. Of course Heidi his daughter is the light of our lives and there is zero chance we will not spoil her!  

Sarah is completing her masters degree, specializing in occupational therapy and is set to graduate from Milligan College in December.