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.