Viewing post #744266 by Sharon

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You are viewing a single post made by Sharon in the thread called DesertPirate: 1954 Ford Crestline.
ImageSharon
Aug 20, 2011 7:18 PM CST
Name: Sharon
Kentucky
My friend Randy (DesertPirate) got his great story in a little bit late for the article, so I'll give it a thread of its own. Thanks Randy! What a beautiful story of a wonderful friend.

My dad had a friend, Robert Hough. I used to go fishing with Robert on a semi-regular basis. (Dad wasn't much of a fisherman) He had an old 1954 Ford Crestline, black on black with a mostly intact interior.

Robert lived about 6 miles down a dirt road from us and I'd ride my bike to his house on our 'fishin' Saturdays. We'd pile into his old Ford and make our way to the creek or the lake depending on where Robert wanted to fish that day. He'd usually let me drive if we were going to the creek as it was all dirt road getting there.

One Saturday I showed up to Robert's and noticed there was a new Chevy pickup truck in the driveway in front of his old Ford. I thought maybe we were gonna have a new fishing partner for the day. I was quite worn out from my six-mile pedal so near breathlessly, I asked "Who's truck". (and I also noticed that Robert was in his PJ s.) "Oh that," he said. "I bought that yesterday." "Far Out!" says I. "I'll load the fishing gear in the back!"

"No" he said. "I don't feel much like fishing today."

I don't know if I actually muttered it or not, but I certainly thought 'well you coulda called 'fore I rode that damn bike six miles.'

I (hopefully) politely asked him if he could give me a ride back home. To which he replied, "Nope, don't have the time."

I was starting to get a little ticked off at this point. I asked, "Well can I sit here and rest a few minutes before I have to ride back?"

Again he replied, "Nope, don't have time for that either. And by the way," he added "I wish you'd move that old black Ford of yours outa my way so I can get on with what I want to do today."

I realized he wasn't kidding pretty shortly and I loaded my bicycle into my very first car. It may have been a 15 year old six-banger Ford, but it may as well have been a brand-new Cadillac.

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