Christmas Memory 1984

I say it is 1984 because that is about when Dad thought it was time to sell the Tan 1976 Chevy Crew Cab and get a brand spanking new Tan Chevy Crew Cab. The importance of this was not only did we get air conditioning and velour seats but we got a cassette tape player.


Trips in the 1976 truck were either loud, windblown and sticky affairs or dark, cold, silent ones. Like some sort of special forces mission we would be loaded into the truck in the middle of the night (some of us would skip this ritual and just go to sleep in the driveway hours before departure) we would stack up in the bed of the truck with only the fiberglass topper between us and god and we would suffer, sometimes for what felt like days and sometimes it literally was days. No DVD players, no Nintendo DS, no iPod/iPad, not even a radio. If it was hot we would shed clothing. If it was cold we would cuddle like sled dogs and pull on red canvas sleeping bags that smelled like stale, old air.


With the new truck came new found luxuries. No longer did bare legs get burned by 120 degree vinyl seats, the windows stayed up with the advent of A/C and occasionally there was music. Those troops relegated to the bed of the truck continued to endeavor great hardships as did Mom. I can remember on more than one occasion she was forced to climb through the 18 inch window that separated the bed from the cab… but I was a young teenager by ‘84 and the older siblings were absent from our trips by this point so I got to stay up front. On our first trip in the new truck, a Christmas trip to California, I learned quickly that with great blessings came great responsibilities. It was the job of us older kids to keep Dad awake. This may sound easy but remember, this was a man that had often pulled a 23 hour work day trying to wrap things up at the hospital so we could go on the trip. This mission, like many others would start late at night and in inclement weather. It was a long night devoid of any noise save it be the popping of dads gum, the cracking of pistachio shells and the hum of a 454 in 4 wheel high going 50 mph down I-15 toward Grandma’s house in LA.


It was about 2:30 am when Dad finally slid the tape into cassette player. The soundtrack for the next four hours of darkness was Willie Nelsons’ Red Headed Stranger. I sat in the front seat struggling to stay awake so I could make sure dad stayed awake and I listened. I watched as dad looked forward, I would make a sound here and there as his eyes closed, but mostly I just watched and listened.


It didn’t seem like anything special at the time but it does now. 26 years later as I listen to some Willie live streaming on my android phone I can’t help but want to be back in that warm cloth bench seat looking at my dad with no worries in the world but to keep him awake.


Here’s to old men, old trucks and well worn memories. Merry Christmas y’all