Trucks hold a special place in my memory and heart. When I was growing up, my grandfather had his own business as an electrician. My dad occasionally would need to borrow Gramp’s big, yellow pick-up truck and if I was lucky, I got to go along for the ride. Inside the cab of the truck, there were always wintergreen and butter-rum Lifesavers candies and Chiclets gum. When I got a little older, I was allowed to ride in the back of the truck behind the cab. It was great fun bouncing around back there, hanging on to the bar or sitting on the wheel well getting my hair all tangled from the wind.
I took a trip down to Moab recently and took some photos for inspiration. In this time of Covid, with the world turned upside down, I wanted to convey a sense of peace, calm and a bit of nostalgia. Instead of painting the F150 that was heading toward me when I took the shot, I decided to paint one from a long ago memory of a truck my dad bought when I was a kid. It was just like the one pictured in my painting. His truck was dark blue and an antique when he bought it. I remember the floor had a big hole in it and you could see the ground rushing by as we rode along. I don’t think it ran well as he sold it shortly thereafter to a neighbor. It mostly sat in his yard, the grass growing up around it. I always thought it was and amazing piece of engineering and design.