A man’s toolbox should be small enough that he can move it from place to place as needed – but big and awkward enough that his neighbor and his brother-in-law can’t.
We had recently become the proud owners of a large camper. My 3/4-ton diesel pickup was more than capable of hauling the advertised 10.5 feet of the beast. Its former owners were moving, and having to get it out of storage before they left had much to do with our being able to afford it.
While loading for an excursion I was asked about the necessity of bringing my “pickup” toolbox. Then came comments about its size and weight.
The places I had been with the old yellow hay truck and the mechanical and weather issues I’d always made it home from left me paranoid of “crossing the street” without my toolbox.
Planning a trip or two in cold weather and with people riding inside the camper, I altered it a bit. I sourced the stand-alone heater unit from a C-series tilt-cab Ford truck from a friend’s boneyard. A very nice compact unit just over a foot square that contained the hot water radiator that provided the heat and the fans to move that heated air to warm whatever it was in.
I plumbed into hot water from the heater lines of the pickup, under the hood. I ran the added water lines under the cab and through the wall of the camper to provide the hot water to keep the passengers nice and toasty warm.
The 12-volt power for the fans came from the pickup also. I was worried that the fans would be left on and run down the battery, but that never happened. The kids said that the low setting for the fans was usually plenty warm.
One trip included a Thanksgiving trip to southern Utah where a brother was hosting an ad hoc family reunion. What made this trip memorable was that on the return trip we had a detour and errand. One of my sons had lost a right-of-way dispute with a cow, and I had another pickup to haul home.
I was able to get use of a trailer adequate to haul the injured 1/2-ton pickup. With the trailer hooked up to the diesel pickup already hauling a heavy camper, and then the wounded pickup on the trailer, I was concerned about having an adequate “mule” for the trip.
It was after dark when we arrived to gather up the trailer and truck. By morning there was some fresh snow, maybe 3 inches. When loaded, tied down and pointed toward home, we lit the fuse. Rolling along still in second gear on my 1991 Dodge with the five-speed transmission and Cummins diesel, which I’d tweaked a bit, I gave it the rest of the throttle. With only a light powdering of snow on top of a frozen gravel road, my Dodge spun the rear wheels.
Yessir, I had adequate “mule” for this escapade.
I still had that truck and camper when my son, who recently celebrated his 25th wedding anniversary, got married, and we needed to travel to the Yuba City area of northern California. In December. Around Christmas time.
The pickup was two-wheel drive. I had some fairly gnarly tires, plus some tire chains I’d cut down to fit from a set of heavy truck tire chains, so we were prepared for winter weather.
We made it down without incident on mostly bare, dry roads. We survived the festivities since neither family used any of the usual spirits of celebration at the reception.
As we started packing for the trip home, one of the locals informed me that we wouldn’t be able to leave because it was snowing to the north. Our route was I-5 north to Weed, then follow Highway 97 through central Oregon and home.
I replied that we’d just drive through any snow.
“What if they require chains?”
"Then I’ll throw on my chains."
“What if they close the road?”
"Then I’ll climb in the camper and take a nap."
We drove off with some of the new daughter-in-law’s family sure we wouldn’t survive.
The California Highway Patrol was checking vehicles for adequate tires before we got out of the flatlands. Fellow shined his light on the rear tires and said I was OK.
It was past bedtime when we stopped at the nice rest area between Weed, California and Klamath Falls, Oregon. We had about 6 inches of fresh snow in the morning, but the roads had been plowed and sanded.
Made it home without incident. Never needed the toolbox, but just like having tire chains aboard, it was comforting to know it was there.
