So after dropping Murphy off at the vet and taking much amusement in watching him try his hardest not to get dragged back into the exam rooms, I went out for a drive and found the truck that I spotted here least week.
It was indeed an M715 truck, and in better shape than I though possible. Other than the fire dept. red paint on it, some non-spec tires and a missing blackout light, it was complete and unaltered and perfect. "Bob's House of Junk" turned out to be a back yard auto restoration shop, and "Bob" (Real name Tim) stopped stripping down an old Oldsmobile to tell me that the truck was not his to sell, but rather it had been brought to him for some restoration work by the guy who'd bought it from a local fire department a few months earlier. Ironically, the owner is an Air Guard pilot out of the same airport that I flew out of when I spotted the truck. I left my number, but he's probably not going to want to sell it, and even if he does, this one's not going to be cheap.
But Tim and his son, and a customer of theirs named Lee and I all got to be talking about that truck, and cars in general. Then we got to be swapping old car and truck stories, and talking about guns and Obama and how he's wrecking our country. (I didn't even have to prime the pump, I swear...they brought it up!) After a bit, Tim offered me and Lee a bottle of water from his shop fridge, and when we politely declined, he asked: "Well how about a beer?" He hauled a case of beer out of that fridge and we all had one, and then another, and for about two hours, the four of us just sat there swapping stories, drinking beer and enjoying the day. Guns were brought out and passed around, to eventually include the carry guns that Lee and I had on us, and sometime during all of the guy talk, Tim's wife brought a pizza in so we ate that, too, and without even washing our hands.
I finally pried myself away from there when the vet called and told me that Murphy was ready to be picked up. As I drove away, having exchanged phone numbers and given him a life of old vehicles that I'm interested in should he come across one (Old military trucks and 1960s Mustangs), I went back to get Murphy from the vet, reflecting that some people really are just "salt of the earth nice".
Oh--and as to the truck, here it is in all it's old military glory.
Yeah, it still even has it's original 231cc overhead cam Tornado engine and 24-volt electrical system. (I was hoping for a solid body with a blown engine so I could drop a 350 small-block in there, because those Tornado engines suck like few mechanical things that were not made in England have ever sucked.)
She may not be pretty, and she may be loud and drafty, but she can climb a wall in low gear. Those were tough trucks indeed, at least until you ran 'em at highway speed and blew the heads on those Tornadoes. I had one once, and I still regret selling it. I'd have taken this one in a heartbeat no matter what was wrong with it if the body was still solid.
Oh, and the vet techs say that Murphy is "sweet" and "cuddly". I told them that they must be thinking of another Murphy; I was there to pick up the two-tone German Shepherd. They insisted that he was who they meant, and that he was "so nice".
WTF? So why is he such an ass dog when he's at home?
"Maybe it's becuz they're prettier than you, and becuz they give me more biskits."