March 14, 2023 – Millarville, Alberta
Bear and I were on a road trip in Montana ten years ago. As we passed through Chester, a little town on the northern border, I saw this beautiful automobile on the side of the road.
As we drove by, I had a memory flashback – way back, to 1959.
Our family moved from Gravelbourg, to Arcola, Saskatchewan in ‘59. Mom and Dad packed my baby brother and I into a truck much like this one, along with household effects, and drove 200 miles east to a new life in Arcola. My memories of the trip are vague, but the Model 77 Ford on the side of the road in Montana triggered a glimmer of that ride in 1959, and many more memories.
I hit the brakes on the F-150 I was driving and pulled off the highway for a better look. The elderly gentleman who owned the vehicle was in the process of putting a “For Sale” sign in the window. Thirty minutes and thirty thousand dollars later, I was the owner.
Brad and Russell standing beside the Ford that took us to Arcola.
Technically, the truck in this photo is a Mercury. For some reason, Henry Ford decided to market his trucks in Canada with a Mercury label. It is very similar to the US-built Ford Model 77, of which I am now the proud owner.
When I volunteer for Millarville Racing and Agricultural Society events, I take the blue Ford. MRAS has been hosting an annual Agricultural Fair and Horse Race since 1905, before Alberta was Alberta. I help out by transporting spectators to the event on a wagon pulled by a tractor. The other volunteers and I dress for the occasion, so folks can go home and tell their friends they met real cowboys.
Not all of my memories involving the truck are good ones. In about 1961, my mom drove it to visit a neighbour who lived half a mile up the road. My brother Brad and I were along for the ride. On the way home, we convinced Mom to let us ride in the back of the truck.
Mom gave us a stern warning to sit down in the bed of the truck and not move around, and off we went.
There was a short curve in the road which Mom was manoeuvring around when Brad and I decided to stretch our legs. I hung on, but Brad went over the side of the box and landed on the ground, knocked unconscious.
Mom slammed on the brakes, gathered Brad up off the ground, dropped me off at the house with Uncle Jim, and raced Brad to the hospital on the seat of the old truck.
I asked Brad and Jim about that incident yesterday. Jim didn’t witness Brad’s actual fall from the truck, but he remembers the panic of the situation. Brad’s only memory of the incident was being pushed around the hospital on a cold gurney.
Brad said yesterday that he now has a very clear memory of me somehow being responsible for his clumsiness. He says I threw him overboard and he is threatening to sue. Brad has a very weak case. There were no witnesses, and the statute of limitations ran out a very long time ago.
This old truck, with its unique two-tone paint job, is forever etched in my memory. There might be a very good reason for that.
Mom and Dad used the truck to pull a camper on their honeymoon in 1954. I was born in 1955. There is a very good chance I was …
… Conceived in a Ford Pickup.
Adrian and Pat Paton, on honeymoon in 1954.
Colleen Brownridge
Priceless photos snd really enjoy your stories along with it! Those really were the good old days, you made do with what you had and made happy memories!
Russ
The further back those memories, the more precious they become. Thanks for the note. R
Sharon
While enjoying my morning coffee and reading this..I love this story…I can just imagine your Mom and Dad giggling at your memories.
Russ
I am sure they would be giggling. These stories are so vivid now – I don’t remember where I put my glasses most days, but ancient memories like this keep coming back.
Rhonda
So entertaining to read this morning, Russ. Keep up the great writing!!
Russ
Thanks Rhonda. My siblings and uncle and I had fun reminiscing about the “falling out of the truck” incident.