This was from an era when trucks were work horses for those who made a living off the land rather than being tailored to dandies with dreams of glory but a job in a cubicle.

Funny this one is in Montana.

Back in the day there was a young cowpoke and his bride that moved down from Montana in one identical to this. He’d accepted the job of foreman over at the K-Bar Ranch. When he and the missus showed up everyone said she was sweeter than a slice of cherry pie, but the truck was finer than frog hair split with a broad axe.

Folks in Fort Stockton were always suckers for Boxwood Green and Wimbledon White. As far as those cloth seats? Most menfolk would tell their better halves stay dressed in their unmentionables while they were shaking the sheets if they’d been woven out of that sweet green brocade fabric.

Any who, Montana wasted no time in getting acquainted with the Lucky Lady Lounge once he’d settled in. Right from the get-go folks noticed he had a strange habit when throwing back a few beers. He’d go up to the bar and order 3 mugs of Pearl, take ‘em back to the table, and finish ‘em off one at a time. After the last one, he’d go back to the bar and repeat the whole process.

Didn’t take long for the bartender to tell him, “You know a beer starts goin’ flat the minute I pour it. It’ll stay fresh longer if you just get ‘em one at a time.”

“You don’t understand,” Montana explained, “I got two brothers, one in Arizona and one in New Mexico. When we all left home in Colorado we swore we’d drink this way to remember the day when we all drank together. I’m drinking one for me, and one for each of my bothers.”

It went on that way for better’n a year. Then, one day Montana pulled up in the 4X4 Ranger, came in, and only ordered two beers. All the regulars looked up in amazement. When he came back to the bar and ordered two more, the bartender lowered his voice and whispered, “I don’t want to make a big deal of it, but just want you to know we’re sorry for your loss.”

Montana wasn’t sure what the bartender was talkin’ about at first, but then slapped his starched Levi’s and busted out with a laugh, “Oh no! It ain’t that. Everyone’s fine. My wife and I just joined the Second Baptist Church, so I gotta quit drinkin’. Luckily, it hasn’t affected my brothers.”

Most folks would agree that even the most expensive King Silver Lariat Rancharado crew-cab dually with the custom stitched Buffalo Scrotum interior and Prariephonic Sound System doesn’t hold a candle to this ’70 Ford Ranger. They’d probably even drink to that.