The Old Truck

Travelling backroads, I just happened onto some very old – rusted, and riveting – antique relics, forgotten cars. I like old cars, even if they are rusted. They put me in mind of “The Old Truck” of my youth.

The Old Truck lived in the lower field below and behind our house, which must have been new in the 1940s, maybe mid-1930s. It was a “Model such and such,” which meant something to the adults on that day. It meant nothing to us kids. We were warned not to play on it, so of course always did.

The Old Truck was a big green flatbed, big round headlamps at the front, which made us think of things old and enchanted, while the flatbed with side slats was – early on – able to hold our weight.

Accordingly, we “drove” it everywhere – or I did – with that thin, big black steering wheel. We climbed on the running boards, up on the flatbed, which made for all kinds of wonder.

You could hide in the truck, spy on siblings from the flatbed, prepare to ambush each other in games, or just laze about in the vicinity, think about the future with a long piece of grass in your mouth.

Funny thing was that the old Mainer who put it there was, I think, convinced that someone would one day buy it – rust and all – to “fix ‘er up” the way people did back then, not so much to be practical or to carry things around, but to make “Bondo,” fiberglass, sandpaper, and paint useful.

Trucks, fire engines, and old cars of that vintage often found their way into Memorial Day and July 4th parades, complete with proud, well-bedecked, and hardworking owners. That truck was a thing of wonder, both for those who wandered back and down to give ‘er a look, and to the owner.

How many times did he drift off to sleep or get up with coffee, sure that his boat would come in, a tourist or ambitious restoration maven would see The Old Truck, beg him to sell it, let him bargain them up, and then land him a big chunk of change in exchange for that rusted old heap.

How much wonder was expended by us kids, at first in play around The Old Truck, then expended in imagining it really running again, somehow getting the time, money, and permission to bring the relic back to life. One friend’s father did that with old cars. The end product was always a gem.

How much wonder in later years must have filled the minds of summer tourists who were invited to take a look, who did, never bought it, but let the idea of restarting and restoring fill their weary minds all winter long, until the next summer when they would come by and restock their dreams.

The answer to these questions is immeasurable, if even knowable, and so the only thing to say is that old cars and old trucks have a certain magic. The Old Truck became, as far as I recall, a slowly disappearing pile of rusted fenders, bolts, and lights, flatbed supper for birds, squirrels, and termites.

But The Old Truck – sitting as it did for decades in that field – served a wonderful, wonder-producing location for kids and adults, Mainers and those just seasonal to pass by and comment on, each of us imagining its colorful, un-rusted past, some of us imagining its possibilities and future.

So, what is there about old cars and trucks? They take us back to a time when things were different, some better, most slower, and many worth wondering on and revisiting. Once in a while, I even sit down and write about those old times, old times when we thought we lived in the new times.

Every once in a while, take a back road, keep your eyes open, as I did recently. When you least expect it, you may happen upon a rusty relic of the past, filled with wonder and memories. It may suddenly transport you – whether you slide in behind the wheel or not – back in time.

The trip may take you nowhere, or it may take you to wonderful places you had, until then, forgotten about. Those old cars did that for me, reminded me of The Old Truck, valuable even going nowhere.

Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, Maine attorney, ten-year naval intelligence officer (USNR), and 25-year businessman. He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (North Country Press, 2018), and “Cherish America: Stories of Courage, Character, and Kindness” (Tower Publishing, 2024). He is the National Spokesman for AMAC. Today, he is running to be Maine’s next Governor (please visit BobbyforMaine.com to learn more)!