Chevy Trucks: America’s Great Aspirational Vehicle
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Sixteen years ago, when my father was called home, I inherited is 1987 Chevy Silverado. In those days, trucks were much different, and hardly comparable now in terms of performance, capability, and luxury. Trucks today are simply miles ahead, but my father’s ’87 and its characteristics (or quirks) I recall fondly.
The big gauges with the orange needles, the radio’s silver buttons, and the fuel tank switch – it had two gas tanks, one on each side of the truck – were hallmarks of the interior. I would reach under the seat and pull the big bench forward to get right up close to the wheel.
I can still feel the steering wheel in my hand.
The first time my father let me drive was right after I passed my driver’s license test. By “right after” I mean like walking out of the courthouse, just got the certificate, and dad drops the keys into my hands. “You’re serious,” I asked, wondering what had gotten into my father.
“It’s time you learn,” he said.
“You sure about this,” I asked again.
“We’re headed straight home, I don’t see the harm,” he reassured me.
Indeed I got us home safely, after running a stop sign and nearly causing an accident. My father yelled something about brakes but I froze and kept right on going. If that other car had not been blaring its horn, I might have been able to make out what my fath...
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