I killed two birds with one stone today. I bought a truck. I also bought a cab-over camper. They were a pair. You see, I was coveting an old truck so as to tool around to my many farm plots. I wanted one I could throw a bale of hay into the back, or a load of compost, along with all my hoes and bounce along Hill Road. It also would be more convenient at my current level of production to stack my Saturday morning farmer's market produce in the back of the long-bed rather than pull my trailer around. It's so hard to park a trailer downtown.
I also wanted a camper. I used to have some wicked trailers, but through a feign North, I managed to let them go for a string of beads. Now, I wanted something smaller, something ready to go camping or hunting with. This has everything but a shitter, and I'm comfortable with that. My daddy always told me, "Don't shit where you sleep." I take his advice to heart.
So when I saw John working on top of the camper atop the 1971 GMC Custom truck (paint color primer red), parked in a pasture I drive through to get to my Castle Garden, I curiously asked him what he was doing. He said fixing up the camper to sell. It was listed on Craigslist just that morning. So I didn't think much and said, "I'd need a truck to go with a camper. You sellin' that too?"
Well, one thing led to another. We got it started. We negotiated a price for both and shook on it. It has a good running engine but the breaks need some work. In fact, a new exhaust, an oil change, a new windshield and a radio and we'll be just fine. Maybe I should get a CB radio.
I'm going to get the cheapest paint job I pay someone else to do. The boy-spawn thinks I should bolt plastic fruit and veggies all over it if I'm going to use it to go to the farmer's markets. That sounds like a good idea.