Granddad's Truck, Part 2

Earlier this year, I wrote about the Model A truck that my grandfather used in some of my fondest memories. Somehow many of the adventures became more "interesting" as a result of Granddad trying to adapt his truck for chores that he had once done with horse drawn equipment. Ah, the joy of new technology.

One of the chores that was a primary endeavor during the summer was the mowing, raking and gathering of hay for the cows and getting that winter sustenance into the hay mow of the barn. One of the improvements Granddad made to his truck was a series of wooden racks and extensions that allowed for a substantial increase in the amount of hay that could be hauled in a single trip. Much of the hay was mowed by hand with a scythe and once raked and dried got loaded into the truck with pitch forks then hauled to the barn.

Within sight of our home, Granddad had mowed a field and in the process uncovered a nest of yellow jackets. He swore vengeance for the several stings he endured and plotted a plan for the small plot of hay that had to be left unmown. When he returned the following day to gather the hay and filled his truck with a pile of hay that dwarfed the truck, he threw a couple fork fulls of hay on the yellow jacket nest and set it ablaze. The satisfaction of giving those little demons what they deserved was quickly turned to panic when he realized that the fire had jumped to the load on the truck.

Mercifully, the truck started easily for a change and Granddad headed for home at a speed rarely achieved in that little old Model A. What an exciting display for a ten year old who just happened to be doing whatever ten year olds did during the summer months. I watched in amazement as the load of burning hay accelerated toward home; disappearing as a ball of flame as it crested the hill and went out of sight. Fortunately the fuel tank on Model A's are in front of the firewall. Had it been in the rear somewhere, I fear that would have been the last memory of Granddad I would have had.

My grandmother had done laundry that day and it was fortuitous that she had not yet emptied the rinse tubs. She responded to Granddad's plea, "Hey Ma, Bring water." The two of them carried buckets of water and managed to extinguish the fire which had spread to the tar paper like roof of the truck. The wooden racks were pretty much gone. The tiny rear window had broken out from the heat and the handle of Granddad's "favorite" pitch fork had been lost. But the little old truck survived to provide additional aggravation. After that incident, whenever the truck acted up, Granddad could be depended upon to say, "...should have pulled the damn thing off in the field and let her burn."