When I was 15, my family lived for awhile in the Ozark mountains outside of Branson, Missouri. For a kid who loved to hike, fish and hunt, this was pretty much heaven. The hills and open woods reminded me of the Pennsylvania family farm and my dog and I would wander all over the mountains behind the house exploring creeks, caves, ridges and valleys.
Walking along a dirt road one day, I saw a friend of mine from school and his father working on old Chevy panel truck in their front yard. They waved me over and his dad explained that they were restoring a panel van for my friend who was about to turn 16. They were happy to tell me all about their project and I couldn’t hear enough. It looked like a lot of fun to me!
School hadn’t been out long and I had lots of time on my hands. You can guess how I decided to spend my summer vacation! I walked over to my friend’s front yard every day for weeks and spent long hours helping him and his dad with their restoration.
My friend’s project was an early 1950s panel van with a 235 ci engine and a three on the tree transmission. I quickly learned to admire the simple elegance of the Chevy 235 engine and it wasn’t long before I announced to my father that I was going to find a few old Chevy trucks and build one for my first vehicle. My father was not pleased: “Why can’t you just get a simple, reliable sedan that works?”
He was a great dad but he kind of missed the point on that one. The simple answer was that I thought then –– and still do think –– that those early 1950 Chevy model trucks were about the coolest thing to ever come off an assembly line.
I wandered around the Branson area until I found what I was looking for: two 1952 Chevy trucks parked in a farmer’s field. One was a triple deluxe cab with chrome trim! I bought them both for $200 and he delivered them to my house. I worked the rest of the summer and managed to get one roadworthy enough to register and drive to school. I can’t even describe the feeling of satisfaction I got from driving around in that truck!
Later that fall my father got a new job; we were moving to middle Georgia. As I was calculating how to convince my father to let me drive my truck the nearly 800 miles to our new home, the transmission went out. Heartbroken, I had to leave my truck behind.
I did manage to sell it back to the farmer I’d bought it from, but for a fraction of what I had paid for both the trucks. Even so, all the money and time I’d put into the project was completely worth it for the sense of accomplishment it gave me.
Like most people, I’ve tried to find some kind of lessons in the disappointments of my life. Looking back at this one, I’d have to say that although I didn’t know it at the time, I was already preparing to become an equipment appraiser. My summer of Chevy restoration taught me the basics of how things worked mechanically and provided a bonus lesson in value. Both of these are important lessons for an equipment appraiser to learn.
By the way, when we moved to Georgia and I went looking for a new pair of wheels, I took my father’s advice and bought a pearl white 1967 Pontiac Firebird. Very practical.
Jack Young, ASA, CPA
Equipment Appraiser & Chevy 235 Fan
NorCalValuation.com
