From time to time we will post a different question and would like to hear about your memories. Please email your story and a picture, if possible to, greg_hinzmotors.com
We will add up to three storys on this page.
My father taught 6th grade at Suncrest country school located several miles south of Newton. I would ride with him every day from 1st grade through 6th grade. Yes, my dad was my 6th grade teacher but that is another story. We had a green 1960 Ford F150 that we got from my grandfather. It had the 292 V8 which was Fords workhorse motor back then, and a 4 speed manual transmission that first was explained to me as granny low and was only used for heavy loads or towing. As a 1st grader I can remember my dad letting me shift gears sitting next to him on the drive to school. By 3rd or 4th grade I was driving that F150. The clutch had to be pushed all the way to the floor so I would sit on the edge of the seat and grip the bottom of the steering wheel for leverage then quickly reach way over to the middle of the truck for the gear lever. The gears seemed miles apart compared to todays synchronized transmissions and trying to master a graceful engagement of the clutch when I barely had enough strength to push it to the floor to begin with, often resulted in both of our heads jolting forwards and then backwards as I tried to perfect the gas/clutch combination. As with any good used farm truck you could turn the steering wheel a half turn before anything happened which worked out well for a beginner. The steering wheel seemed huge and required a lot of muscle to turn a corner and then quickly try to correct any over steering that I had done. The radio didnt work (and we still survived Id like my children to know) but the truck had lots of noises it would make on its own. The most memorable thing that happened in that old truck is that one day while my father and I were riding quietly each in our own world one of the metal fan blades cooling the engine decided to part ways and with a strange vibration and a sudden bang it flew through the hood slicing a perfect line in the sheet metal. A mile or two later we laughed hysterically - but in the moment neither of us new what to think. -Greg Hinz
