Brad Nelson

Life is interesting. It’s been almost 34 years since my dad passed away, and I can remember things he said many years before while I’m forgetting what I went into the next room for five minutes ago. Someone told me that passing through a doorway causes the short-term memory to reset. I hope that’s my only problem.

On the off-chance you have a power failure or internet outage at Thanksgiving, try this: Gather the group and play Thanksgiving ABCs.

I sometimes get accused of unduly embellishing a story. When writing a history about my father, an older cousin told me I didn’t have my facts straight. I told her to give me a break; I was only 4 years old when the event in question happened.

I’ll hit the big 70 come August, and my body remains afflicted with eyes that see the world as though I was still 35. I still cuss the Ford Mustang for being too small in the driver compartment so I never even got to drive one.

This year’s annual meeting and show for the American Truck Historical Association was held at Salem, Oregon.

I had never worked on a diesel engine before. It was about 1969 and I was working for Charles Warnick at Pleasant Grove, Utah, while going to college. One morning, he asked me to grab my toolbox and drive over and help a neighbor.