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My family lived in western Mass. when I was four or five. I was told that my brother was working for the summer at the Boy Scout camp,(he is 12 yrs. older). Steve got to drive the logging truck. In the fall they had a project at the far end of the camp. We, my brother, mother and I climbed into the truck and rode out to the project. The engine mad a deep drone as we slowly climbed the hill behind the maintenance garage. I was amazed to look down through the lever slots to see the ground passing beneath us. I don't remember it being crowded at all eventhough there were three of us. The smell, it was like a combination of heavy oil, leaves, and old canvas. The truck was solid and I knew I could trust it. They loaded trees onto the truck later and when we dumped them I felt the front lift. It scared me some but not my brother. It soon became part of the fun of the ride for me.
My father had his job move to Connecticut the next year and so did the family. I never got to go to camp to drive the truck.
Years later when I was in college, I went to visit the camp. I asked Mr. Pike, the old Ranger, if the truck might be for sale. He said that he would sell the military jeep pick up he was in first but he wasn't ready to do that either. I did get to look at the truck. I figured out that it was a '68 WM300 with a winch and a twin cylinder flatbed, green. My secret dream of owning it was still that, just a dream.
I was married with my second child just under a year old when I returned again. My wife was amazed how I introduced myself to the new Ranger and talked us into the camp past the locked gate to see the truck. She did not know that they had been working on the truck a few days before. They almost seemed threatened when I asked about the possiblity of it being for sale. I think that they were just as attached to it as I was. So we went up to the garage. The passenger's running board had a big dent in it I did not remember, the tires were different, the paint had faded, but it was the same truck. We shot some video and some pictures. My wife teased me while she stood on the running board, "Me? or the Truck?" Then I realized I will never own this truck. That it belonged at the camp, that it should climb hills slowly, impressing boys for years to come.
That was a dozen years ago. I have had a M-37 for a short time but yet to have owned a Power Wagon. My mother in law used to pay for my subsription to the Advertiser. I let it lapse a few years ago. She died this past August. My wife thought it was nice that I wanted to subscribe again, she is getting me the subscription for Christmas. I feel an itch coming on.
Art
My father had his job move to Connecticut the next year and so did the family. I never got to go to camp to drive the truck.
Years later when I was in college, I went to visit the camp. I asked Mr. Pike, the old Ranger, if the truck might be for sale. He said that he would sell the military jeep pick up he was in first but he wasn't ready to do that either. I did get to look at the truck. I figured out that it was a '68 WM300 with a winch and a twin cylinder flatbed, green. My secret dream of owning it was still that, just a dream.
I was married with my second child just under a year old when I returned again. My wife was amazed how I introduced myself to the new Ranger and talked us into the camp past the locked gate to see the truck. She did not know that they had been working on the truck a few days before. They almost seemed threatened when I asked about the possiblity of it being for sale. I think that they were just as attached to it as I was. So we went up to the garage. The passenger's running board had a big dent in it I did not remember, the tires were different, the paint had faded, but it was the same truck. We shot some video and some pictures. My wife teased me while she stood on the running board, "Me? or the Truck?" Then I realized I will never own this truck. That it belonged at the camp, that it should climb hills slowly, impressing boys for years to come.
That was a dozen years ago. I have had a M-37 for a short time but yet to have owned a Power Wagon. My mother in law used to pay for my subsription to the Advertiser. I let it lapse a few years ago. She died this past August. My wife thought it was nice that I wanted to subscribe again, she is getting me the subscription for Christmas. I feel an itch coming on.
Art
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