Everybody knows... That a place like Kokomo...

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with cars. I seem to be the same to cars as other people are to stray animals, Hopeless. Still, I had refrained from buying any new vehicles, well new to me, for quite some time. But that was about to change.

I had some success with selling things on eBay recently. I have cleaned out my closet and attic of old instruments and other such oddities and made quite a haul selling them. Naturally, the endless possibilities of eBay called my name. So with my newly earned fist full of cash, I started to scour the website for something. For what I did not know, but I figured it would let me know when I found it.

It took a whopping hour to find it... it was beautiful.... it was me. It was a 1954 International Pick-up. I e-mailed the buyer, but the auction was drawing to a close. I had to make the decision to buy the thing or let it go and hold on to my money. I had 23 minutes.............. obviously, I used my better judgment, and... Oh to hell with it... I bought the damn thing.

I got it for the bargain, $156. So all I had to do now was go get it... Where did the auction say that it was? Oh yeah, Kokomo Indiana. It's not that bad of a drive, really. We had just been through there a few months earlier for the family reunion, so I was encouraged. My loving, understanding, and beautiful wife was less so, yet she went along anyway.

It was simple enough, we would take off on Friday, pick it up and be home Saturday, nothing compared to some of the iron-man trips my Dad and I had taken in the years before. Becca, my wife, was not as keen on the idea as I was, nor was she excited about daring herself and our infant child across the western world for an old truck, but I had photos. I had pictures that showed that the truck was a looker. It has the old school style that with a little TLC, would easily morph into a nice looking street rod. I continually showed her the pictures and talked about how great the truck would look.

We took off on Friday afternoon and cruised up to Peru, Indiana. Peru is about 20 miles from Kokomo, and we had broke our journey there when we when to the family reunion earlier that year, so we stayed in the same hotel and everything. Of course, by the time we got there, we only stayed in the hotel for 5 hours before we had to head down the road. Interesting point here, Peru Indiana was once the circus capital of the US, Ringling Brothers name their headquarters there for 50 years or so at the turn of the century, pretty neat.

So we excitedly header towards our rendezvous, ok, I was excited. We stopped at the U-Haul place in Peru and picked up the trailer for hauling the truck, and slid over to Kokomo. All in all, the trip had gone well so far. The baby had great, as always, and Becca had been great company and quite the trooper. This was about to change.

We had a little trouble finding the guys house, as it was out in the country. When we got there, my less that glorious trailer backing skills showed themselves, so after 10 attempts or so, I had the trailer lined up and was ready to load 'er up. I had been really laying it on thick this morning about how great the truck was. Pictures don't lie, and I already had a color picked out for it. I got out of the Beast ( our Ford Excursion that we drove to pick it up) and strolled over to where the truck lay in wait. I remember it was a cool morning, and overcast on the verge of rain. I strolled up to the truck as the owner emerged from his house, and as I approached the truck, my heart sank into my stomach and I felt like I had been gut punched.

The truck was the biggest rust bucket I had ever seen. This guy must have been a professional photographer, because in all the pictures that I had seen, I saw no evidence of any rust. I looked back at Becca, then to the truck. I was done for. I had come all the way to Indiana for the damn thing, and now that I was here, I didn't want it. What was I supposed to do? Leave it there?

We quickly loaded it up and headed out. We stopped at a gas station down the way a bit to fill up and for me to further secure the Bucket, as we took to calling it. God bless her, she got out and took a look at it, she circled the trailer and climbed back in the Beast, and she didn't say a word. I asked here what she thought and she said "I like the color". She could have ripped into me for dragging he all this was for the Bucket, but she didn't, quite generous of her I thought.

Regardless, Indiana roads are rough, so our going was slow at first, the Bucket bobbing behind us. We stopped every hour or so to let the baby eat, and to stretch our legs. Everytime we stopped, I rechecked the straps holding the Bucket in place, hoping they would snap, and I could leave it where ever it landed. They could never trace it to me, I thought. My shame was growing each time I looked at the truck more closely.

We made it home without much trouble, I struggled with the straps and finally, after nearly giving myself a hernia, rolled the Bucket off the trailer and unhooked the trailer. When I came inside, Becca just smiled at me and said "At least all the holes made it lighter!"

I have since gotten rid of the bucket, it was not beyond repair, but it was far enough gone to continue shaming me, and not once has she thrown it back in my face... well, not until I got my latest car....