The War Wagon

The War Wagon

What is it about guys and their pick-up trucks? Is there some mystical appeal about a four-wheel vehicle that can take you anywhere you want to go? Whatever it is that bonds men to trucks, I got it. One of the first things I did when I moved back to Montana some years ago was to find a high mileage Chevy pick up. Two pick-ups later, I am still in love with my truck.

There is one truck that is above all others: The War Wagon. It was a 1978 Ford Super Cab ½ ton long box with the 400 cubic V8 engine. If there ever was a hunting machine, the War Wagon was it! The truck belonged to my good friend Tom. He pulled trailers, hunted geese, deer, elk and gophers with it. By the time we moved to Havre, the truck was well broken in with the sweet smell of the Wild West.

My boys loved the War Wagon. They couldn’t wait till spring so we could load up with pop, hot dogs and 22 shells to go gopher hunting in the Bears Paw Mountains. We would spend a whole day out in the wide-open spaces shooting those rodents of the prairie. What fun it was to eat our lunch under the big Montana sky. By day’s end we were out of shells and proud that we had helped the eagles have a hot meal or two. One time the boys cut the tails off some gophers thinking they would take them home and show mom. Somehow they forgot and those tails sat in the back of the truck the whole summer; another reminder that gophers best be left where they fall.

That long box came in handy for deer season. One time we took my three boys and a friend out to the Breaks to hunt mule deer. Everybody had a deer tag. Our goal was to shoot enough deer to fill everyone’s tag. It took us all day and lots of grunt work but we did it. Looking in the long bed of the truck, all you could see was horns and hoofs.

The War Wagon is long gone and my friend Tom is nearing the end of his life. All that is left of that truck is wonderful memories of doing what men and boys do. Thank you Lord for good friends, good times and the War Wagon.