Rusty Chevrolet

Rusty Chevrolet

Have you ever heard the song "Rusty Chevrolet" from Da Yoopers? Give it a listen and let me know what you think.

When I hear it, I think of my Dad and his truck. The rusty Chevrolet and the memories surrounding that old truck I hold dear forever now that I have grown and my father is no longer here.

It sure didn't seem that way when I was a teen! No way! Dad would pick me up at the High School to go to an appointment. That truck could be heard a mile away and the looks it had drawn (or so I thought). I would walk out of the school as fast as I could to open the door hoping it stayed on the hinges. He would start it and I am sure it had the loudest muffler known to mankind (or so I thought).

There were times I did enjoy it, back in the day when it was legal to take a ride in the back of a truck. That was fun; he was a carpenter and would haul ladders and supplies so he built wooden sides onto the bed of the truck. Yes, and it was painted black and white. We would ride in the back of that truck giggling and having a blast as the wind blew our hair.

There were mornings he would start that truck outside my bedroom window which seemed as thin as a potato chip (or so I thought). The window would rattle and the fumes, oh the fumes. My Mom, she was a tiny lady and a ride in that truck shook her so much her teeth would rattle (or so I thought).

Why do we worry about what the world will think about us? We tend to worry so much that a ride in a truck, the truck that helped my Dad keep food on the table and take us where we needed to go would take me from a good moment to a fear of the world and their thoughts.

My Dad was a good man all the way around. That truck did not define his character and nor should I have let it define what I thought people would think of mine. Silly, sure it was (and so I think). If only I could go back, I would cherish those moments because it wasn't that truck that helped mold my character but the Man that drove it.

How I would give anything to take another ride in that Rusty Chevrolet with my Dad.

Remember Friends, keep on keepin' on and Just Be You!

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Contact Information:

Maggie Brumit

P.O. Box 82

Chesapeake City, MD 21915

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