Family

Old Blue...A Member of the Family


This is Old Blue.  In 1973, it was New Blue.  Blue was a looker in '73, and Dad says that it was the fourth four wheel drive vehicle in Greenwood, Arkansas (Greenwood was small in the 70's and truly everyone knew everyone and their business too).  Picture this truck with it's original bed, shiny chrome, bright royal blue paint, and mud tires...it was sharp. 

Old Blue is a member of the Jones family...he's my brother...and I honestly love this truck.  I would cry my eyes out if someone other than an immediate family member had this truck...therefore, I have it willed to come to me.  I have dreams for this boy!  Redneck restoration (that needs to be a TV show). 

I have a million memories of this truck, Mom, Dad, and Lori all have a million memories of this truck.  In 1973 Dad saw a truck like Old Blue sitting in a parking lot in another town...he decided he had to have one...and a few days later he did.  My mother learned how to drive on this truck.  My sister learned how to drive on this truck, and took her driving test in it at Booneville, Arkansas.  She passed with flying colors. 

I learned how to drive on this truck too.  Two generations learning how to drive on the same vehicle...pretty cool for today's standards.  Being a Jones...nothing we do is conventional....therefore, my driving instructions were a little wacky.  I learned how to drive by steering through the pasture after dark and spot lighting for armadillos with my mother.  Mom would ride shotgun...22 actually...and I would drive us around the pasture, through the creek, up the pond bank, through the gates, and back to the house.  Sometimes we would get an 'amry' and sometimes not...mom was a pretty good shot in the dark.  We had the best talks while driving around the pasture with the windows rolled down.  The radio didn't work at this point, so we would just talk away.  I was 11-14 when we did this. 

When I began to near actual driving age, Dad decided to set up an obstacle course for me to practice on before he would let me apply for a driver's permit.  In the pasture behind our house at Burnsville, he drove t-posts in the ground near a grove a Sassafrass trees...and told me to hop in Old Blue.  He knew that going forward I could blow through his simple course....but I didn't know that he wanted me to go backwards!  I wore ruts in the pasture trying to weave backwards through the t-posts and trees.  Old Blue has zero power steering.  I had to use my mirrors and if I tried to turn my head to look I would get yelled at....but I learned how to back up like champ...and that is why I would rather back into a parking spot than pull in...I go better backwards.  'Come on big daddy...let me back that thang up'....'Girl who is you playin' with, back that thang up'....flashback song. 

I didn't take my drivers test in Old Blue when I turned 16...I took it in the 1989 we called 'New Blue'....while hooked to a gooseneck flatbed trailer.  This is 'New Blue'...a piece of poo compared to Old Blue. 


Only classy chicks have mud flaps like these.  I drove it Friday to town.

I'll never forget the day that I took my drivers test.  Dad, Mom and I had gone down to Yaffee Metal to pick up some square tubing.  Dad was driving and we were coming up Kelly Highway by the State Trooper office heading back home.  He looked over at me and said "Worm...want to get your driver's license today"?  He whipped in the parking lot and pulled in longways with the trailer taking up about 10 parking spaces.  Embarassing already.  I go in and tell them that I would like to take my drivers test..and you should see the person that they sent out!  He was about 4 1/2 foot tall and I was worried that I was going to have to lift him into the seat.  He took one look at the truck and trailer and said "YOU DRIVING THIS?", shock on his face.  Dad made me drop the trailer and the poor instructor literally crawled into the seat...then we were off.  I took him around the block, made the correct signals and stops...I think I sang him a few songs...and pulled back into the parking lot.  Oh no....Dad was giving me the back up signals like he did on the aircraft carriers in Vietnam...I was going to have to hook up to the trailer.  The poor instructor said "okay, just pull in a spot and let me out"...Dude didn't understand...Dad was giving me the signal...I had to do it NOW...no questions asked...Buddy this ride ain't over.  With the pitiful instructor along for the ride..I backed (with my mirrors) up to the scotched trailer loaded with tubing...hit it first try.  It was over!  The instructor literally fell out of the passenger side and was met by Dad asking "Well, did she pass".  He responded "I have never failed a kid that drove a standard...something about it...they have to know how to drive".  Thank you very much. 

Even though I tested in 'New Blue'...I hit the streets in Old Blue.  It was my first vehicle, but it was never really mine...too many memories have been made by my other family members for this truck to be 'just mine'.  The day arrived that I was going to drive myself to school and debut my wheels.  From the time that I was old enough to understand...it was a given that I would drive this truck...and that day was here.  I worked for hours cleaning that truck up.  I polished the oxidized blue paint with Go-Jo hand cleaner, Armorall'ed the dash, and put in a strawberry air freshner.  Old Ford's have a unique smell....all old Ford's.  I had Old Blue looking as good as it was going to get.  There were holes in the floorboard, no radio, no bed..only a flatbed that Dad made (he sold the bed to a guy from Clarksville, AR), loud pipes, chains that flopped against the headache rack, and no gas gauge.  The tank was right behind the seat, so I would jerk the wheel to slosh the fuel and tell how much I had.  Dad told me not to get over 45 mph and not to take Old Blue muddin'.  I think his exact words were "Worm...don't you let them boys talk you into taking this truck muddin'.  It's too old and can't handle it anymore".  Of course I wouldn't do anything to hurt Old Blue..he was a brother.  I did get him up to 55 mph one night when I was cutting curfew close...the front end shook like crazy...totally worn out. 

So, with Old Blue shined up...I was ready for school.  First day of my senior year..I am dressed for success...jeans tucked into unlaced cowboy boots.  I weave my way through the tight turns at intersections to reach the school campus...some people don't understand that I must swing wide to make them...no power steering remember.  I turn onto the straight stretch and head up the hill to the senior parking lot, I just passed the bus shed, the agri building, the north entrance into the school...and there it is....the turn from hell.  Designed by the devil himself where the pavement ends and the dirt lot begins...I must make a thirty degree turn to get into the parking lot, and head back the direction that I just came from.  I see the turn and let off the gas....pipes rattle at a deafining sound and the heads turn. Everyone is looking now...including the teachers.  It was really loud and echoed between the buildings.  There is a drop off from the asphalt to the dirt...chains on the back of the flatbed clank louder than the pipes.  Turning Old Blue for all he has....everyone is staring and I can't back up now to get another stab at it...buses are coming up behind me.  Remember to swing wider next time...I can make this....should I just run over that car...get the hell outta my way.  This was everyday of my senior year...I was mad before I even got there....and tired.  Kids wanted to know where I got the truck and thought I was poor because it looked like a beater.  They called it the 'Beast'...I would politely correct them and say 'Old Blue'.  'It's a member of the family'.  The boys would inspect it and it's four wheeling potential, tell me that I needed bigger tires, ask to go muddin', etc.  "Daddy said boys are the devil"....for real.  I never took Old Blue muddin'....I didn't want my brother hurt....or have to explain what happened.  There was one time that I put it in four wheel drive and thought the world was coming to an end when I couldn't get it out....story for another day. 

Old Blue is a member of the family...and will stay that way if I have anything to say about it.  It still runs and Dad takes it to town every once in awhile.  He told me he had it up to 70 mph the other day...poor Old Blue.  I have so many memories of this truck and not a single one of them is bad.  It has never left me stranded or walking..and I would drive it today if I could.  Maybe someday Parker will be a third generation to learn to drive on Old Blue. 
"Let me see your grill"...
Rust and holes in the floorboard..they weren't this bad when I drove it.

Where did my door handle go Dad???  You have to roll down the window to get out now.

I wish you could smell inside....it never changes...it's a comfort smell for me.

Electric taped horn, split seat, head liner missing, wires hanging down, can't read gauges, radio doesn't work, no a/c and very little heat...only the best for Dorie.

I ripped out the glove box after I got tired of hearing it rattle...had a shoe box in there for awhile.  Guess Dad took it out.
Back of Old Blue.  Looks like Dad boomed down one of his welders to the back for a project.

Hello Blue...I miss you!  Don't you want to come home with me?  His restoration will cost me a fortune...will be totally worth it!