1987 Chevy Silverado v10 – Justin S.

My name is Justin and this is the story of my dad’s truck AKA “The Monster truck.”

The story begins back in the mid 90s. My dad had purchased the truck from his best friend Diesel, who was basically my uncle. My dad rebuilt the mechanical side of the truck right around 97, as well as putting a 2 in body lift on it and 31 10.50s. After doing this he decided to change the truck from the factory silver gray to a bright yellow with a matching tan interior. I know it sounds unattractive, but most of my childhood I spent in this truck – so I learned to love it early on.

I was born in 2001 and my mom and dad had moved into a trailer in Troy, MO where we lived until I was about 2. When I was just 2 years old my mother ran inside the house to get her purse, leaving me in the running truck. I managed to crawl out of my car seat, went over to the wheel, and moved the gear shift to drive just like my dad had done a million times. From there the truck and I proceeded to roll down the hill in my front yard crashing over a swing set, a kids picnic table, two potted plants and finally stopped in the edge of the woods parked in between two trees with inches to spare on either side. That was my first driving experience and needless to say I needed work, BUT there wasn’t a scratch on her.

After we moved from the trailer to a house, my dad did the second rebuild of the monster truck – completely redoing the engine. This time I was old enough to “help.” Being a curious kid, I got into mischief as my dad was working on the truck. I went over to the work bench where the pistons were sitting and had picked them up and moved them around, my dad to say the least was not very proud of me right then. I remember driving almost every Sunday to the gas station up the road where we would get hot dogs and a soda pop and then go on a drive. We’d usually drive to his work where I would fetch tools and he would work on various pieces of machinery. He used to say that the truck was magic and if I asked really nicely the truck would drive itself. I was probably 5 or 6 at the time so of course I believed him, but in reality, it was cruise control – still none the less I was mystified.

When I was around 8 or 9 the truck was having distributor issues and unless you would give it gas while it was stopped and in drive it would die. It sat for a few years then my dad repainted it again – this time a silver color. As the years passed, the more it sat and the more I wanted to take over the legacy of the “monster truck.”

But last year my dad sold the truck because he needed to pay bills. The guy who bought it took out the glass and interior and sanded off the paint, basically used it as a parts car, and ever since I have been trying to save and buy it. I haven’t been able to save enough yet, I’m about $1,000 dollars short of having my childhood truck back – even though it’s not pretty and needs some TLC. But even without an interior and no tailgate or glass, with the only paint being primer, that truck still means the world to me. It wouldn’t matter to me if the only piece of the truck left was its bumper, I would buy it and fix it up just the way I remember it. I only hope the guy who owns it now will sell it to me.