[Dave in MN]

The summer I was 8 years old a retired neighbor, August Scheffler, took the time to take me fishing a couple times on a lake located 5 miles from our rural farm site. He would pick me up early in the morning in his CC ‘28 or ‘29 pickup. When he arrived, we had to dig for fresh worms on the north side of the barn where it was shaded. August's wife, Barbara, would always pack two ham sandwiches made with thick slabs of home baked bread, one slice buttered and 6 pink peppermint candies. August said that peppermint was "good for the stomach" but these peppermint candies were pretty strong and burned a bit in my mouth. When he wasn't looking, the lozenge would end up over the edge of the boat. On the way to the lake, we would stop at Busacker's corner store. This store was no bigger than 10 x 14 feet with one gas pump out front. At the store he would buy one bottle of Orange Crush for me to have with my sandwich. Soda pop was not something we ever had at home...this bottle of pop was a real treat for me. We would arrive at the lake and he would pull an old wooden row boat out of the weeds near the public landing and we would load our gear. August would row across the lake towards a spot thickly covered with lilly pads that was partially shaded from huge overhanging trees. August let me try rowing a couple times and I remember he would laugh when all I could do was make the boat go in circles. He always assured me that when I was a few years older, I would be able to row better than him. We would fish for a couple hours, have our sandwich and my bottle of Orange Crush about mid session and then he would row back to the landing. When he dropped me at home, I vividly remember the back end of the pickup and the unforgettable sound of the Model A as he pulled away. A few years later, the pickup fell into dis-repair and no longer ran. Often, when I went to visit and help him with his large fruit orchard, I would go into the barn and look at the pickup. I told myself; "That pickup was going to be mine someday." Time marches on and one day when I was going past his place while taking driver's training, I mentioned to the instructor that there was an old Ford pickup in that barn over there and I was going to buy it and fix it up. Unknown to me, he was a collector/seller and he went out and bought the pickup within a week. I later learned he had a buyer in a town 30 miles away and made $100.00 on the deal.
I was in college when my mother sent me a letter to tell me August had died. I still remember the empty feeling as I sat on my dorm room bed when I read the news of his passing. It took till I was almost 40 to finally buy my own '28 pickup and fit it up. I keep the one picture I have of August in my photo album of the pickup's restoration.
Good Memories!
Dave in MN