F
Field Ethos
Guest
By Richy J. Harrod
Sometimes memories of the past return when you least expect it. My brother, Ron, recently reminded me about ranch pickup dashboards. Not sure what made him think about them, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have thought of it on my own. Either way, the top of the rancher’s dashboard is something to behold.
We are fortunate to have been raised on a ranch that has been in the family since 1860. Our great, great grandfather and his brother traveled the Oregon Trail to settle the ranch in rural northeast Oregon. It’s a long story, but our great grandmother oversaw the ranch until our uncle Don Dodson took a primary role sometime in the early 1950s. Our father, Howard, started working for our uncle (his brother-in-law) in the early 1970s.
Of course, in the early days of the ranch, heavy work was accomplished with horses, wagons, and strong backs. Mechanized equipment, including pickups, came in the early part of the 20th century. Pickups were important daily working tools by the time my brother and I tagged along with our father or uncle on the ranch.
Uncle Don’s pickup served as service rig, mobile office, veterinary vehicle, and numerous other uses. For storage of tools and other needed items, there was a truck bed toolbox, and the bed itself had steel posts, irrigation parts, and hand tools. But the pickup dashboard is where the most used items were stored.
Gloves, pliers, screwdrivers, various receipts, paper lists and reminders, and other seasonal items would be readily available on the dash. In the early spring, bottles of vaccines for calves and syringes could be found and, in the summer, fencing tools or irrigation parts obstructed the view.
One item was always on the dash. As kids, Ron and I looked forward to riding with Uncle Don so that we could get a lollipop from his bag of Dum-Dums. He had a sweet tooth which was satisfied by those little tasty suckers. Ron remembered that our older cousin Curt had a big bag of Jolly Ranchers in his pickup. Often, he would take Ron to town to get a cold Pepsi or two, which our cousin largely drank in leu of water.
Dad drove an early 1970s blue Ford pickup when he worked on the ranch. It too had a loaded dashboard. Dad used his pickup to feed cattle in the winter. Hay bales would be stacked in the back, the pickup placed in low 4-wheel drive, and dad would point the pickup down the long field and let it idle slowly forward while he dropped flakes of hay bales off the back. When Ron and I were 8 years old or so, he would let us steer even though it wasn’t needed. We probably couldn’t see over the stuff on the dash anyway.
One vivid memory involved calving season. Uncle Don had a contract with a Nevada rancher to overwinter his cattle, feed them, and keep them through calving. These old range cows were mean as hell, so giving the calves their vaccinations was a bit dangerous. Dad would drive the old pickup into the fields daily looking for newly born calves. The Hereford cows my uncle ran were concerned when dad gave their calves shots but weren’t threatening. Those range cattle were a different story. Dad would load the calves into the back of the pickup to give them shots so that the range cows (we called them “old rips”) wouldn’t trample him. One old rip tried to get in the back of the pickup with dad, and she nearly did! The old pickup bucked around, and I thought for sure she was going to get both of us.
Ron and I started working on the ranch more seriously by the time we were 12 years old. We would drive the oldest pickup; a stick-shift, early-1960s model, two-wheel drive Ford pickup. The key was broken off in the ignition, so it started with a screwdriver. Our duties were to change irrigation pipe, fix fence, rake hay, and help move or work (vaccinations, castrations, or dehorning) cattle. We too kept tools on the dash just like our uncle and father. Why not? It was a convenient place to keep the stuff regularly needed.
Those old ranch pickups and their hardware store-like dashboards were sources of fond memories. It wasn’t just the visual memory but the smell. Ranch pickups smelt like dirt, cow manure, diesel, and sweat. These smelly, messy pickups were integral in teaching us to be men. We watched our father and uncle work hard from sun-up to sun-down. We learned to use the tools the pickups carried, and acquired skills needed to fix things on the ranch. Most importantly, we learned responsibility, a work ethic, and to make due with what you have. We are proud to have been ranch kids.
The post Dash of Nostalgia appeared first on Field Ethos.
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Sometimes memories of the past return when you least expect it. My brother, Ron, recently reminded me about ranch pickup dashboards. Not sure what made him think about them, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have thought of it on my own. Either way, the top of the rancher’s dashboard is something to behold.
We are fortunate to have been raised on a ranch that has been in the family since 1860. Our great, great grandfather and his brother traveled the Oregon Trail to settle the ranch in rural northeast Oregon. It’s a long story, but our great grandmother oversaw the ranch until our uncle Don Dodson took a primary role sometime in the early 1950s. Our father, Howard, started working for our uncle (his brother-in-law) in the early 1970s.
Of course, in the early days of the ranch, heavy work was accomplished with horses, wagons, and strong backs. Mechanized equipment, including pickups, came in the early part of the 20th century. Pickups were important daily working tools by the time my brother and I tagged along with our father or uncle on the ranch.
The Ranch Truck
Uncle Don’s pickup served as service rig, mobile office, veterinary vehicle, and numerous other uses. For storage of tools and other needed items, there was a truck bed toolbox, and the bed itself had steel posts, irrigation parts, and hand tools. But the pickup dashboard is where the most used items were stored.
Gloves, pliers, screwdrivers, various receipts, paper lists and reminders, and other seasonal items would be readily available on the dash. In the early spring, bottles of vaccines for calves and syringes could be found and, in the summer, fencing tools or irrigation parts obstructed the view.
One item was always on the dash. As kids, Ron and I looked forward to riding with Uncle Don so that we could get a lollipop from his bag of Dum-Dums. He had a sweet tooth which was satisfied by those little tasty suckers. Ron remembered that our older cousin Curt had a big bag of Jolly Ranchers in his pickup. Often, he would take Ron to town to get a cold Pepsi or two, which our cousin largely drank in leu of water.
Dad drove an early 1970s blue Ford pickup when he worked on the ranch. It too had a loaded dashboard. Dad used his pickup to feed cattle in the winter. Hay bales would be stacked in the back, the pickup placed in low 4-wheel drive, and dad would point the pickup down the long field and let it idle slowly forward while he dropped flakes of hay bales off the back. When Ron and I were 8 years old or so, he would let us steer even though it wasn’t needed. We probably couldn’t see over the stuff on the dash anyway.
A Dash of Ranch Life
One vivid memory involved calving season. Uncle Don had a contract with a Nevada rancher to overwinter his cattle, feed them, and keep them through calving. These old range cows were mean as hell, so giving the calves their vaccinations was a bit dangerous. Dad would drive the old pickup into the fields daily looking for newly born calves. The Hereford cows my uncle ran were concerned when dad gave their calves shots but weren’t threatening. Those range cattle were a different story. Dad would load the calves into the back of the pickup to give them shots so that the range cows (we called them “old rips”) wouldn’t trample him. One old rip tried to get in the back of the pickup with dad, and she nearly did! The old pickup bucked around, and I thought for sure she was going to get both of us.
Ron and I started working on the ranch more seriously by the time we were 12 years old. We would drive the oldest pickup; a stick-shift, early-1960s model, two-wheel drive Ford pickup. The key was broken off in the ignition, so it started with a screwdriver. Our duties were to change irrigation pipe, fix fence, rake hay, and help move or work (vaccinations, castrations, or dehorning) cattle. We too kept tools on the dash just like our uncle and father. Why not? It was a convenient place to keep the stuff regularly needed.
Those old ranch pickups and their hardware store-like dashboards were sources of fond memories. It wasn’t just the visual memory but the smell. Ranch pickups smelt like dirt, cow manure, diesel, and sweat. These smelly, messy pickups were integral in teaching us to be men. We watched our father and uncle work hard from sun-up to sun-down. We learned to use the tools the pickups carried, and acquired skills needed to fix things on the ranch. Most importantly, we learned responsibility, a work ethic, and to make due with what you have. We are proud to have been ranch kids.
The post Dash of Nostalgia appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...