When I turned 15 I started to look for a car, like any other kid my age. Unlike many other kids in my generation, I had a passion for classic cars. After finding an ad in the paper for an "old pickup truck" my father, a gearhead friend of his, and myself went to see it. It was faded yellow, worn down, and had a camper shell. I saw it and fell in love. I saw what it could be, I saw it like a painter looking at a blank canvas. Time did what time does best and 7 and a half years later you can see the final result. Right before the crash that took her away. I have limited pics with me right now, but she got refurbished interior, sound system, the trans rebuilt, a new engine, new rear gears, new glass, new bumpers, a couple of different paint jobs over the course of her life, and lots of love. It was a father-son project, build, headache, argument, money sinkhole, stress reliver, attention grabber, ego boost, and panty dropper. She was in two major accidents and finally toatled on Nov. 14, 2013. Extensive body damage and frame damage. In my living situation, with my move for my new job, I did not have a place to fix her, or the time to do so. The insurance company auctioned her off. I took the money and got a 66 SWB fleet. However, no truck will ever be what Annabel was. Too many memories and too few pics.
