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Old 26-12-12, 01:55
jack neville jack neville is offline
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Join Date: Jun 2010
Location: leopold, victoria
Posts: 1,019
Default A little light entertainment: 1939 Ford 1 ton Utility restoration

This relates the story of a 1939 Ford 1 ton utility I rescued a few years ago from a paddock at Little River, in Victoria. Still under restoration with a target of Coroaw 2014 in mind. Hope you enjoy it. will post some photos when I work out how to do it.

Merry Christmas.



Years ago I found a truck beside a railway track,
Sitting in a paddock full of wrecks.
The owner was a greyhound trainer probably training hacks.
An interest in that truck his last expects.

I went and had a look at it and thought a piece of junk.
No way will it see the light of day.
Something like a Marmy, missing front end piece of hunk,
Some useful bits but quickly turned away.

Then later I was talking to a mate and told him more.
I thought I’d found a useful piece of crap.
It had a Marmy cabin but the running gear was poor.
“Could it be a one ton ute perhaps?”

Blankly I stared back at him. “A one ton ute is what?”
“They used them in the mighty world war two.”
“The Aussie Army made them back when they were in a spot.”
“There’s hardly any left but just a few.”

So quickly to Bart Vanderveen I made a quick refer,
And found the page that showed the very pic.
An ugly sort of duckling but a rarity for sure.
History tells there’s dead and there’s the quick.

So ventured off the daily train and drove my truck to work,
And on the way I made a slight detour.
I’ll go and see this bloke and flash some cash and swing this lurk,
I’ll offer him five hundred to be sure.

So in amongst a hundred dogs in kennels of all sort,
A tumbled wooden dwelling falling down.
At least a hundred other wrecks where rabbits did cavort,
A Ford of 1939 was found.

A sad and tired basket case with crane jib on the back,
Was used for hoisting carcass for the dogs.
It sat there for ten years where it died there on the track.
The owner blamed the dizzy’s broken cogs.

The tyres had all gone very flat and perished in the sun,
The wooden frame and metal work was sad.
To try and resurrect what did remain would not be fun,
I doubt it could be saved it was so bad.

But looking for the silver lining as we often do,
When contemplating what we can repair.
There is no seat the tray is gone the chassis’s altered too.
But all the other parts are sort of there.

The steering wheel and column they were far too gone for use.
The petrol tank had way too many holes.
The doors had rusted bottoms and the running boards abuse.
An Army truck? Way too much patrols.

So gingerly to sound him out I asked him what he thought,
And would he take five hundred with a nod.
“It’s handy with the crane right there.” “So it can not be bought?”
“My son has plans to turn it to a rod.”

“Well that would be a waste.” I said. “For such a noble beast,”
“Much better to restore this Aussie hack.”
But he would not be swayed right there no luck this day at least,
So thank you for your time, but I’ll be back.

So back was I commuting on the train and going past,
Twice a day I looked out on his field.
To watch this old girl aging as the train flew by so fast,
Six months later maybe he will yield.

Make I did another trip and nothing much had changed,
I doubt he’d even used it in that time.
The wrecks had grown in numbers and the dogs had rearranged,
Time to change my rhythm and my rhyme.

“So how’s your young bloke going with his plans to make a rod?”
“I’m glad your back.” He said. “It’s hot today.”
“The kid’s no longer interested. Lazy rotten sod.”
“The truck is yours. Just haul it all away.”

“My offer was five hundred so I’m glad to give you such.”
But “No!” He said. And raised his hand to me.
“I’m happy just to know that you have wanted it so much.”
“But leave me just the jib and take it free.”

So back I was within a week complete with labour force,
An old Toyota chassis for the jib.
A cinch to change the crane around the kids no help of course,
Just chased the rabbits round. (Well, that’s a fib.)

Another relic saved forever safe from cutting torch.
The ravages of time no longer feared.
The old bloke waved us off as he was seated on the porch.
A happy day was had as evening neared.

The old girl travelled slowly home a few bits falling off.
The timbers rattle loose and glass departs.
They’re fine while they are standing still in paddock some would scoff.
But travel home too fast they fall apart.

She bounced up on the trailer to the stares from passing car.
With smiles appearing from each looker’s lip.
The menfolk and the children were admiring from afar.
The women thought “They’re heading for the tip!”

So finally we got it home and made it in the yard,
Satisfied we made it no mishap.
We rolled it off the trailer. Said to kids, “That wasn’t hard.”
The wife appeared, “What is that bloody crap?”

“Darling it’s an asset! It’s a beauty! They are rare!”
“And better still so cheap it doesn’t rate.”
“The kids have had a ‘triffic day they haven’t got a care.”
“Yeah Mum thinks it’s a bloody ripper mate!”

The progress well it ain’t been fast in fact it has been slow.
But always since I’ve kept it in the shed.
You drink a lot of beer and stand and look and think you know,
And contemplate the action plans in bed.

And when the subject comes around and parts come up for sale.
“I’d better get that now before too late.”
And then you hear of other ones or some misleading mail.
And find he’s not the owner but his mate.

But slowly work had been accomplished even making way.
With other projects thrown in here and there.
It won’t be long till it is on its wheels ‘bout any day.
It’s buried under all that stuff somewhere.

And then I saw a date in year two thousand and fourteen,
At Corowa the March sun will be out.
That year it will be of the Ford that’s when it could be seen.
I guess I’d better pull me finger out.

I’ve kept an eye on this bloke’s yard on everyday commutes.
The old jib crane seemed idle everyday.
The pile of wrecks just kept on growing mostly worn out utes.
Until the scrappy took them all away.
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