All posts by Sue J

Exploring the world around me and interpreting what I experience through words & images.

Reach Out and Touch Her: U2’s 2017 Concert Tour Honors HERoic Women

Phoenix—September 19, 2017

There, under the veil of a white cotton sheet, my eager fingers reach up and touch her dark face. She is beautiful. Her soulful eyes speak of sadness and strife, but she seems hopeful as we all touch her, as we all feel her sadness, her pain, her hope. She is no longer a refugee of a war-torn country. She has by now travelled the world, been touched by over a million hands and has touched them in return.

In an already powerful recording by U2 of their 1987 “Joshua Tree” album, this year’s live performance goes even deeper. The simple act of thousands of concert goers in the stands passing along a colossal 40-foot by 40-foot white sheet over their heads printed with the lone image of a dark-haired, dark-skinned 15-year-old woman-child with deep brown eyes did something to me no other concert experience ever did.

After we are introduced through video to a 15-year-old Syrian woman-child by the name of Omaima who speaks of staying hopeful and of the dream of someday coming to the wonderful United States to experience true freedom, Bono begins singing the words to “Miss Sarajevo”—“ Is there a time for keeping your distance . . . a time to turn your eyes away? Is there a time for keeping your head down . . . for getting on with your day? . . . “—while video clips of women and children living among the rubble of a war-torn city depict the daily reality of countries around the world.

Halfway through the song, the white sheet with the printed image of this lone young woman upon it emerges on the opposite side of the stadium from me. Bono points off to the right of the stage, to the middle-tier seating where the sheet overtakes an entire section of seats. “Here she comes!” he said, “Look! Over there!” Just then, a spotlight shines upon her face, which begins what will be her guided passage around the University of Phoenix’s open-aired stadium this beautiful, hot September night.

While the entire audience studies this floating image in the stands and on the screens on stage, we in the mid-rows anticipate our chance at being a part of her journey. At the exact opposite side of the stadium, those in my section have at least three minutes to consider the meaning of the words of the song relative to the young woman we might soon touch with our own hands.

U2 2017 Joshua Tree Concert Tour, Herstory, HERoes, honoring women, tribute to women, syrian refugees, impoverished countries, concert review

Because we are in the cheap seats on the sharp side of the stage, we can’t read all the words on the screen, can’t entirely make out all she has said. So, in the moment I know I am not alone in wondering: Who is she? Is it someone I should know? Have I not been paying attention to the world beyond me? Is she a refugee? From what country? Is she a burgeoning freedom fighter—a future leader of women and men?

By the time I have a chance to touch her, Bono has moved on to the next song, “Beautiful Day.” By now, the tone and message lifts to the level of positive affirmation. While the beautiful, soulful, sad, and, yes, hopeful mystery girl floats above me, I am joyful, smiling brightly as I reach up to touch her and help her along her way. All around me, fully engaged people of every age, gender, race, and religion are doing the same. When she leaves my fingertips and disappears from view, I turn to see Bono on the center island of the stage belting out the words, “It’s a beautiful day . . . the sky falls and you feel like it’s a beautiful day . . . “ The juxtaposition of the value-questioning“ Miss Sarajevo” lyrics (comparing what we THINK is important in life with WHAT TRULY IS important) followed by the affirmation-driven “Beautiful Day” lyrics (reminding us to embrace each day and “don’t let it get away”) left my entire being full of hope and positivity. When I looked around at everyone around me in the stadium, their smiling faces, raised hands and dancing bodies told me they felt the same.

Bono and his band filled the entire night with thought-providing imagery, much of it relating to the United States and quite a lot relating to the world at large. For those of us who bought U2’s ”Joshua Tree” album the first time around in ’87 and successive albums in the years to follow, the lyrics and emotion carried in the original releases resonated even deeper this time around. This, in theory, because by now, many of us have seen first-hand history repeating itself. Deeper along in our own personal journeys, many of us now have a keener understanding of what a global (and arguably a universal) disservice it is to ourselves and those we love when we see injustices play out locally, nationally, or globally and meet them with silence and inaction, when we respond by simply turning our backs and looking away.

U2 2017 Joshua Tree Concert Tour, Herstory, HERoes, honoring women, tribute to women, syrian refugees, impoverished countries, concert review

In the final third of the show, narrated interludes between songs by front man, Bono, make clear the message U2 intends to convey. Bono seems to express that it’s time to embrace the FEMALE ENERGY of this world and allow it to guide us to more peaceful resolutions of the grave situations brought on mostly by the aggressive inclinations of MANkind. Through extensive imagery, provided through a participatory project by Alice Wroe called “Herstory,” a parade of both familiar and not-so familiar female faces appear on the stage’s screens, each one a trail blazing woman who has changed the world in positive ways, who have been an inspiration for all women to be all they wish to be and to not be defined by the bitter, resentful, hateful, oppressive actions and words of the frightened, selfish, small-minded, small-hearted men of the world—especially such men who claim to be “leaders” of others. Many of these women are no longer with us, but I recognized many that still are alive and well.

While watching the images of these amazing women on the screen and hearing the frequent cheers from the audience, I can’t help but notice that many of the women shown have been marginalized and vilified by men in positions of power and influence, both in the United States and in countries all over the world. Yet these women persisted, resisted, and insisted on being heard, often at any cost, including physical harm and even death. To them, the cause was and is greater than themselves. The message within the images seems to be, and in fact the words were uttered by Bono, that we should recognize these women as a significant part of not just our HIStory, but of our HERstory, a phraseology that has been making headway in the U.S. and in the world in recent years. Though the books in our schools may never include the rightful acknowledgement of ALL the women, past and present, whom have played a critical role in the positive progression of the human species as a whole, the take-away message to me is:  Let us not give up on making the role of women a critical part of our FUTURE.

It seems clear to me now that I’ve reached the ripe “old” age of 57 that I’m blessed to be alive at all at this stage of life. It’s also become quite clear that I should never take this simple fact for granted, that there is no certainty that the youngest among us today will be as lucky as me to live this long. Quite literally, the future existence of this planet or at least the humans who are blessed to live upon it will depend greatly on the emergence of a new world order where women hold the keys to the shiny red buttons that tempt men and threaten our very existence.

The time for writing the books of HERstory is now. Bono, all the members of U2, and Alice Wroe along with U2’s creative director, Willie Williams, have done a profoundly beautiful job in helping us all imagine such a future for the United States, for the world at large, and for our continued peaceful co-existence in the wondrous, unique, ever expanding universe we call our home. This is the thoughtful, positive message U2 and its co-conspirators have shared to over a million people in the world this year. I’m grateful to have been one of the lucky ones who experienced it for myself first-hand. I will never forget this impactful concert and the message of hope wrapped within it.

U2’s Homepage:  http://www.u2.com

U2’s Herstory info page:  http://www.u2.com/news/title/herstory/handm_news/

U2’s Humanitarian Causes:  http://www.u2.com/heartsandminds

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Human Kindness: Debut of my story in Chicken Soup for the Soul

Human kindness is that certain essential something that surprises us in the darkest of moments. When the chips are down, when we’ve convinced ourselves we are alone in the world, somebody appears from nowhere and proves us wrong. Someone comes along when we least expect it and shines on us a light so bright that we are humbled by the experience. This special someone opens up our hearts and reminds us that we are all connected, that we are here to be help each other, that we are here to spread love and kindness every chance we get. Those of us who receive these kindnesses have been truly blessed.

I had exactly such an experience this past year when our car broke down on a dark highway in the middle of nowhere between California and Arizona. I wrote about that experience and am now humbled to have had the story published by the wonderful folks at Chicken Soup for the Soul. Chicken Soup has a long history of publishing beautiful true stories shared by their contributors of some of the most touching moments of our lives.

This is my second story published in a Chicken Soup book. The first story I had published was in 2016’s “Angels and Miracles” book (my story is called “The Desk”).

Today is the debut of my second Chicken Soup story. It appears in Chicken Soup for the Soul’s “My Kind (of) America:  101 Stories about the True Spirit of Our Country” (my story is called “Highway Breakdown”).

I hope you get a chance to buy the book and give it a read. I’m sure once you do, your heart will be lifted and you will be reminded how connected we all are and how much love and kindness there is in this country and in this world.

(If you like the book, please help promote human kindness by giving it a good review on Amazon. Thanks!)

Blessings to you all,

THE BEST PICTURE I NEVER TOOK: Lake Crescent at Dusk, Washington State, USA

There is one photo I never took, one of a scene far more beautiful than any I’ve ever seen to date . . .

The breathtaking view was on a long drive on the northwest route toward Port Angeles in the state of Washington, U.S.A., as Day 5 of our 3-week Teardrop Trailer trip was nearing an end.

We had been traveling North on coastal Route 101 since we left Oregon, but once we were about halfway up into the state of Washington, much to our dismay, Route 101 began wandering inland. When we hit the town of Artic, we had a decision to make. On this far northwest part of Washington State referred to as the Olympic Peninsula, Route 101 became a circular loop that traveled loosely along the west, north, and east edges of this tall rectangle land mass. Along the south edge were several highways and roads that collectively connected the west leg of 101 to the east leg of 101. Olympic National Park sat smack in the middle of the peninsula, surrounded by Olympic National Forest and tons of State Parks.

Since our destination for the night was a campground just inside the north entrance of Olympic National Park, due north from Artic as the crow flies, we had to decide whether to head east out of Artic on Route 107 and make out way on various other highways and roads until we reached the east leg of Route 101 heading northward along the eastern side of Olympic National Park or to continue on Route 101 out of Artic and head northwest along the western side of Olympic National Park.

Our GPS told us the preferred route would be the eastern one, promising to be picturesque due to an expansive lake region along the way. But because we ached to see Washington’s coastline, we ignored the GPS and headed for the western route, hoping to score views of the Pacific on the part of the road that ran north out of the town of Queets and continued for 12 miles directly on the coast before hitting Oil City.

When we reached that stretch of road, water views were hard to come by. Trees separated us from the open views we were used to along California’s coastline, so we took a turn off the road and visited Kalaloch Beach 4. There, we parked the car and, with dog in tow, headed down a pine tree-lined trail to a driftwood walking bridge where a rocky beach opened up before us.

Down the full length of the beach as far as the eye could see was a perfect line of pine tree soldiers, standing shoulder to shoulder, keeping watch over their fallen brethren that lay strewn along the coastline with their weathered, fair-skinned trunks and branches exposed to the elements.

The marine layer fog that blocked our view of the Pacific on much of the coastal ride in Oregon and into Washington, too, finally dissipated at Kalaloch Beach. We were grateful for the lighter misty spray that met us there and enjoyed a long walk on the beach, taking in the sounds and smells of the Pacific Ocean.

Afterwards, we made our way back onto Route 101 and continued on what was supposed to be a scenic part of the ride. We were in an area known as Olympic National Forest, and though the heavily forested area had its own beauty, we were still smarting from not having seen as much of the Oregon and Washington coastline as we hoped to. And we were tired—dead tired. The tall, uniform, untouchable forest trees that lined the highway quickly felt monotonous and had the effect of a slow hypnosis, making us sleepy . . . very sleepy.

That is, until the road turned eastward to continue along what we thought was the northern coastline of Washington, along what we thought was the Strait of Juan de Fuca that separates the U.S. from Canada. After a while, the road narrowed considerably and took on a wiggly serpentine shape. Guardrails and steep hillsides bridled close by. The cloudy sky above deepened into a mystical blue-gray. We seemed alone on the road—alone except for the dreamy dusk that surrounded us.

A snake-like lane of dark water appeared unannounced alongside our highway road, rising to a level equal with the road, taking on the road’s form as if it were part of it. I felt claustrophobic in its presence. I couldn’t tell where the black water ended and the black road began. Around every turn, I half-expected the road would be flooded.

Beyond the water was an even deeper blackness, unidentifiable at first. Only when the water mirrored a pattern of clouds that appeared in the twilight blue-gray sky above did we begin to see what lay on the other side . . . black Fiji-like mountains lining the other edge of the water, on what we thought must be the Canadian side of the waterway. To this scene, my mind attached tranquil and mysterious scenes of places I’d only read about in books, places where mystics lived and weary seekers traveled en route to their hearts’ desires. It was intoxicating.

My partner and I wanted nothing more than to stop along the road, absorb the moment, and stay awhile. But the distracting road, the dwindling daylight, and the ticking clock all made it impossible. I ached to catch the scene on my camera, but the serpentine road offered no safe way to do so, none at least that we could take advantage of in the moment. And honestly, even if she wanted to, this amateur photographer would not have been able to capture near darkness and sheer wonderment on her cheap point-and-shoot camera, no matter how hard she tried.

No, instead we gazed to the left as much as possible while darting hyper-vigilant glances at a commanding road. I willed my body to relax so I could capture the view as much as possible with my mind.  I knew I would not soon forget it and would someday attempt to write about it and share it.

At times, that’s all we can do. Be absolutely present in the moment. Tune ourselves into the layers upon layers of mind-boggling detail nature has to offer. Absorb, remember, and share our stories of the incredible beauty that surrounds us every day.

It was not until the next day that we figured out what this enchanting waterway was . . . it was NOT the Strait of Juan de Fuca and our view was not Canada. Instead, we were riding along lovely and enchanting Lake Crescent.

I searched and searched through images on the internet, but could not find any that captured what we saw that evening. Here, instead, is a picture I’ve doctored up from the internet that is far less striking and, frankly, pales in comparison in every way imaginable. Trust me, the one in my mind is a zillion times more amazing.


Who: Outdoors and traveling enthusiasts, National Park enthusiasts

What: Breathtaking drive along Lake Crescent in Washington State, U.S.A.

Where: On Route 101 in Washington State, approaching the North entrance to Olympic National Park from the west

When: We did the drive as part of our 3-Week Teardrop Trailer Trip in late August and early September 2014.

Why: You must experience this gorgeous drive at dusk and then spend a day exploring a hiking trail that promises to be quite stunning on the other (non-highway) side of the lake. We didn’t get to hike when we went, but will be back again to Lake Crescent to do so in the future.

How: Motor vehicle only. The road is too narrow and too curvy to hike, bicycle, or horse ride. It would be far too dangerous for anything other than motor vehicles.


To see our original 3-week Teardrop Trailer trip route map, click on the first post of this mini-series:

Teardrop Trailer Summer Road Trip: 9 NW States, 8 Nat’l Parks


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DAY_7_01

Public Comments Being Accepted for Department of Interior’s “Review” of National Monuments Since 1996

YOUR HELP IS NEEDED!

Hey, you!–you huge fan of all our National Parks–MAKE YOURSELF BE HEARD!

You lover of nature, you camping, hiking, backpacking enthusiast, you birdwatcher, you insect-a-holic, you flower fanatic, you lover of all critters in air, on land, and under water, you wanderer, and even (especially!) you, dizzy daydreamer with daffodils in your hair, PLEASE SPEAK OUT ON BEHALF OF A LIST OF NATIONAL MONUMENTS (shown below) CURRENTLY AT RISK OF LOSING THEIR DESIGNATION AS SUCH, leaving them to be stripped, mined, drilled and permanently destroyed, all for temporary monetary gain.

Do you see this stunning photo of Vermilion Cliffs National Monument?  It’s located right here in my home state of Arizona and it is at risk for losing its designation as a National Monument.

Coyote Butte North at Vermilion Cliffs National Monument in Arizona

The National Monuments being initially reviewed are listed in the following tables.

National Monuments Being Initially Reviewed Pursuant to Criteria in Executive Order 13792
Monument Location Year(s) Acreage
Basin and Range Nevada 2015 703,585
Bears Ears Utah 2016 1,353,000
Berryessa Snow Mountain California 2015 330,780
Canyons of the Ancients Colorado 2000 175,160
Carrizo Plain California 2001 204,107
Cascade Siskiyou Oregon 2000/2017 100,000
Craters of the Moon Idaho 1924/2000 737,525
Giant Sequoia California 2000 327,760
Gold Butte Nevada 2016 296,937
Grand Canyon-Parashant Arizona 2000 1,014,000
Grand Staircase-Escalante Utah 1996 1,700,000
Hanford Reach Washington 2000 194,450.93
Ironwood Forest Arizona 2000 128,917
Mojave Trails California 2016 1,600,000
Organ Mountains-Desert Peaks New Mexico 2014 496,330
Rio Grande del Norte New Mexico 2013 242,555
Sand to Snow California 2016 154,000
San Gabriel Mountains California 2014 346,177
Sonoran Desert Arizona 2001 486,149
Upper Missouri River Breaks Montana 2001 377,346
Vermilion Cliffs Arizona 2000 279,568
National Monuments Being Reviewed To Determine Whether the Designation or Expansion Was Made Without Adequate Public Outreach and Coordination With Relevant Stakeholders
Katahadin Woods and Waters Maine 2016 87,563

IF YOU WANT TO HELP & BE HEARD . . .

The following link will take you to the Department of the Interior page where the so-called “review” (which so far, all seems for show only) of DOI-1027-0002 is open for public comment.

If you care about these National Monuments at all, please take the time to leave a public comment on the following web page:


Department of the Interior public comments page for DOI-2017-0002:

https://www.regulations.gov/document?D=DOI-2017-0002-0001


Comments will be accepted until July 10, 2017.

(Note:  Public comments in support of Bears Ears have already reached the cut-off date of May 26, 2017.)


If any of the National Monuments listed above mean anything to you, or if you wish to make a general statement about the whole list of National Monuments under review, please do so at the link I provided above. When I submitted my comment today, I noticed public comments numbered over ONE MILLION! Please make yourself heard!

Thank you so much!

Love,

Whether or Not to Keep Your Mouth Shut in the Arizona Heat

We’ve had a crazy hot, hot, hot week in Arizona this past week–to the tune of 118 degrees at times.

The streets and sidewalks are so hot, our miniature Doberman Pinscher can’t go for a walk unless she wears booties. And because trying to outfit her paws with neon green silicon booties this week was an abysmal exercise in futility—akin to shoving glass slippers on my ugliest stepsister’s feet—the dog hasn’t been out in the neighborhood all week long. I wonder if her new affection for pooping in our bedroom closet is a subliminal message… You torture me? I torture you.

I’ve noticed the birds in the backyard have been passing time on top of the concrete brick walls that fence in our yard. Why on earth do they stand on the wall, I wonder, instead of the cooler grass? (Okay, half the lawn is the equivalent of dry hay, but still, it’s gotta be cooler than bricks, no?)

The birds look parched. Their beaks hang open all the time. They remind me of me when I was a kid. I used to drive my mother nuts. “Susan, close your mouth! For Pete’s sake, are you trying to catch flies?” (For the record, I wasn’t trying to catch flies. I don’t care much for flies, really. The argument of “you never know where they’ve been”–hint, hint, like on a shiny pile of dog poop–resonated with me. I mostly NEVER wanted to catch flies.)

Really, I had no reason to hang my mouth open other than it just seemed natural to do so. In my mother’s defense, I’m quite sure I looked dopey. She was probably trying to spare me the embarrassment of ‘seeming’ dopey. (I was in fact a bit of a daydreamer—dopey… but in ‘cute’ way, I like to think.)

The birds in my yard look dopey this week. Since I have a soft spot for dopey, I empathize with them. I assume they’ve got a perfectly good reason for hanging their mouths open. Probably comes natural to them to do so. I’m figuring it’s something to do with keeping themselves ventilated in the mega-heat, like maybe they’re pulling off some kind of swamp cooler thang. Ya know, like channeling incoming air through a moist mouth instead of a dry nostril. I don’t know. I only lived in the South for a couple of years. Before then, I never heard of swamp coolers. Never heard of hanging wet towels over open windows to cool the incoming air, either. Such a sheltered life I’ve lived.

Birds don’t have towels. For that matter, they don’t have windows either, so I’m thinking swamp cooler thang is their angle. What I do know from careful observation is that, like me, the birds don’t seem to be trying to catch flies. Plenty of flies buzz by, but the birds give a shrug, Meh… not interested. You never know where those flies have been! A person or creature need not be told twice. On any palate, flies with sticky poop feet is just gross… except if you’re a dog. Apparently, poop and flies are good eatin’ for a dog. Which explains why I cringe every time my adorable min-pin insists on licking my face. Ah, the things we do for love.

Speaking of love, we went out to dinner last night. It was too dang hot to stick with Plan A: grilling chicken out on the barbecue. While walking back to our car from the restaurant, we heard a woman screeching at a man in a car. Judging from her tone and carefully chosen words of advice, the man was her husband–poor dear. “Well, then, turn on the f#*king air conditioner, you idiot!” she shouted. He must not have heard her, because she repeated her suggestion over and over again until he and anyone within a mile-long earshot without doubt could.

I know he took her empathetic words of love to heart, because after she went back into the restaurant, he got out of the car and leaned back up against it. There he stood in the sweltering Arizona heat, looking dejected—baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, shoulders slumped, mouth hanging open. In all honesty, he looked kinda dopey. One of my people,  I thought, immediately feeling for this dopey fellow. I wanted to warn him about the flies that had sticky poop feet. Maybe nobody ever told him. More than that, I thought, Wow, what a sad soul. I’d be hiding in the car after a verbal beating like that.

But then it hit me. Clearly, this somewhat dopey-looking, dejected man had a perfectly good reason for standing outside, for drawing more attention to himself than had already been drawn—a perfectly good reason for standing out there, his mouth hanging open, for all who witnessed her wrath to see. His dejected dopiness was, in fact, brilliant! Masterful! The more he brought attention to himself, the more I reflected on what a nasty woman she was. His defiance—wrapped in a sad-looking package, presented in a public setting—sent a subliminal message that screamed, You poop on me? I poop on you. And good on him for doing so. Because if there were any creature in all of history who truly needed to shut its mouth, I think it was her.

So, no, things haven’t been entirely normal this week in the crazy heat of Arizona. Today, though, we get some relief. The forecast is for 110 degrees. I, for one, will be looking forward to things cooling down somewhat and getting back to normal.

With the dog days of this week behind us, we’ll ALL be back to keeping our mouths shut, which, overall, will probably be a good thing.

Stay cool, folks!

THIS is how we’ve been keeping cool. It’s 6-ft wide and 2-ft deep, but it does the trick! And, hey, this week it turned into the HOT TUB we never had!

Love,

1950 Chevy 3100 Vintage Truck Restore / Rebuild_5: The Best Grill for Father’s Day

In the last post (1950 Chevy 3100 Vintage Truck Restore / Rebuild_4: Grilling on a Sunday Afternoon) you may recall that Mark had finished painting the grill for our 1950 Chevy 3100  Vintage Pickup Truck.  Well, here’s how it looks on the truck . . .

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

Besides the grill, I have so much to show you. We’ve made tremendous progress with so many other features of the truck as well. She sure is looking pretty!

First, for the wheels, we went with baby moons on shiny black rims with chrome beauty rings. Nice, huh?

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

Then Mark refurbished the wood planks and metal separators in the truck bed. Both really pop now . . .

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

Mark was able to make use of the rear bumper that came with the truck but did some cutting and welding to add a nice curve to the ends and, of course, painted it the same shiny black we used on the grill. An update to the rear lights and the tailgate chain helps pull it together. . . .

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

We did our best to carry the wood color of the truck bed into the front cab with entirely custom woodwork for the floor and the center console that Mark designed and built (with my input and thumbs up, of course, because he’s good like that!). We managed to score a nice radio and speakers from the junkyard that sound great and look quite fab with the truck . . . kinda old school.

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

We have lots of places to stow various nitnoids. For instance, we can store stuff in the console, in the glove box, and Mark even custom built an extra box under the passenger seat. There’s also a shelf behind the seat we can make use of if needed.

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

Besides painting the dash and steering wheel shiny black, Mark also painted the doors in the same color. We decided on the best balance between silver and black on the doors to complement the rest of the dash. Mark custom cut and bent the metal for the upper part of the doors. He also had to replace the guides for the side windows . . . the original ones were much too trashed to continue using.

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

Somewhere along the way, we also ditched the original bench seat (it sure had seen better days!) . . .

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration and rebuild

We replaced the original with something we eventually found at a junkyard that cost us $30 or so. There are a few minor tears in the pleather on the passenger side, but other than that, the seat is super comfortable. We may do a custom cover on it some day, but are happy to live with it as is for a while. We also found seat belts that matched reasonably well. Junkyard picking is fun and often well worth the effort if you don’t mind taking the time. For us, its a scavenger hunt. We get a kick out of it.

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

The instrument panel came out great. It originally looked like this . . .

Mark was able to salvage the gas/battery/temp/oil gauge, only having to replace the display (which he easily found on the internet) . . .

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

But since he had transformed our three-on-the-tree manual transmission into an automatic transmission and had also changed up the original chassis, wheels, etc., he had to play around quite a bit with migrating everything that was affected by all those changes, which turned out to be a lot.

One of those things was the P-R-N-D markers for the steering column. Mark didn’t like any of the ones on the market, so decided to create his own. This turned out to be more of a pain in the ass than expected, mostly because there was limited space around the steering wheel for a pointer and for the actual lettering. He figured it out eventually, as you may have noted in the picture above.

The speedometer/odometer was also a pain. A brand new one would cost a couple hundred dollars, so Mark set to the task of using the original speedometer casing, but otherwise altering the thing to suit our needs. There was such minutia involved in getting the right display to line up properly with the speedometer needle that Mark eventually called upon my help in a graphics design program to just create our own and print it out. In the end, we created something that looks very nice. Don’t you think?

1950 Chevy 3100 pickup truck restoration rebuild

I swear the “Susan’s 50 Chevy” addition was HIS idea!  🙂

That’s all for now! As always, stay tuned for updates.

Happy Restoring, Re-using, and Re-purposing to all you builders and restorers out there!

And HAPPY FATHER’S DAY to all you amazing DADS!

I don’t know what we’d do without you!


Related Articles in this 1950 Chevy Restore/Rebuild series:

1950 Chevy 3100 Vintage Truck Restore/Rebuild_1: Committing to the Project

1950 Chevy 3100 Vintage Truck Restore / Rebuild_2: Prepping Chassis and Engine

1950 Chevy 3100 Vintage Truck Restore/Rebuild_3: Hard Body Meets Firm Foundation

1950 Chevy 3100 Vintage Truck Restore / Rebuild_4: Grilling on a Sunday Afternoon


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Sue J signature