Earlier I mentioned our Model B Ford car with the suicide doors. Sometime shortly after school started (probably prior to December 7), Daddy decided to get rid of the car. My parents came to school and took me out of school early. We drove to Abilene, where Daddy dickered for new vehicle.
Daddy was quite a trader. One of my cousin’s once said, “You don’t ever want to trade with Burl Bales. He’ll get the best end of the deal every time.” I think it was true. Unfortunately I never got the trading genes. I’m usually the one who gets the raw end of the deal.
It seemed like the dickering went on all afternoon. For a while I thought he was going to buy a ton and a half International truck. It was brand new. It was a “cab over engine” job, and I could tell he was really intrigued with it. It didn’t have a bed, but he figured he could build one. Of course this truck would also serve as our family car. I don’t know why he backed off the deal. I’m guessing in was because of the money. We sure didn’t have a lot of cash laying around.
We eventually drove home in a 1936 V-8 Ford pickup. Within weeks the country would be at war. Automobile manufacturing ceased. Production was stopped on the 1942 models, although some ‘42 model automobiles were built before the automotive plants switched over to producing wartime vehicles. That ’36 Ford pick would have to last us throughout the war and that proved to be quite a challenge, which I will talk about later. On that day in 1941, I was very proud to be riding home in that pickup, but I would get awfully sick of it before we got a different vehicle in 1946.
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