It’s a fireman’s truck, which is about as all-American as it comes. This Ford comes from the pre-CAFE era in automotive design, before the system of categorization of gas mileage regulation promoted the luxurization of pickups. As these old Fords grow scarce on the streets, their contrast to the soft-riding, insulated pickups of today magnifies.
This singularly proletariat vehicle certainly looked a little strange parked in Manhattan’s NoHo as BMWs and Audis cruised by.
An old Ford like this is something that I would expect I’d come across back in Northern California, but it seems at peace with its urban bourgeois surroundings.
I walk past this truck nearly every day on the way to class around Washington Square, and I’ve never stopped to take a picture as I’ve always been intimidated by its patina. There are obviously multiple different paint schemes and tape stripe decals in this F-100’s history, and four decades of weather have only deepened its current variated texture. I needed something to take my mind off of work yesterday, and the challenge of capturing this truck’s gestalt was just what I needed.
There are probably some specific aspects of this truck that imbue it with such a sense of personality to my eyes, but for now I am happy to pour over its utilitarian steel pressings, tarnished chrome flourishes, and whatever else strikes me. Automobiles are transportational, and immersing myself in this Ford’s details distanced me from my work in such a wonderfully escapist, satisfying way.