Is there anything cooler than an old truck?
It brings back memories of my baby brother’s blue truck, of my grandparents ranch
and their Grange friends, of riding in the back of my middle brother’s truck
with my arms around his malemute and secrets from my mother.
This one was sitting in front of our post station (dedicated to Richard M. Nixon).
I had to run after the owner to ask him not to drive away
so I could take pictures of his truck to paint later.
(Urban sketching not possible when man is leaving with gorgeous truck.)
I’ve never painted a car or truck, and I wished I knew a bit more about inks because I had a great ink to use and I wasn’t quite patient enough and botched it on the one above. I still like it, and I guess I am one who has to learn a million times over to be patient!
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