Cleaning Earl's Truck

 

Every three or four weeks, one of us kids was given the job of cleaning Earl's truck. This wasn't the Tip-Top cleaning you see at this car wash. This was hours of tedious work, cleaning and identifying the many items that somehow found their way into Earl's truck. 

We often had to feed hay, both grass and alfalfa, to the cattle held in the corrals. The hay was transported from the barn to the corral using pickup trucks. Most cowboys brushed the loose hay from the bed when completing the job, but not Earl. That was too much work, especially when he had three kids to do it later. 

The kids always did this job on the ranch because of the stench. We didn't want Earl's neighbors complaining. The job started in the cab. We removed everything loose from the seats, floors, dashboard, and behind the seat. The tricky part was trying to identify what to keep and what to throw away. Any paper with a signature or tally marks we kept. The rest went into the garbage. The hardware, no matter what it was, we kept. Earl would notice a ¼” diameter washer missing and chew on our hides for a week. a small whisk broom was used to brush out at least a wheelbarrow load of dirt, sand, mud, and hay. We always left the hardened, adobe-like mud and hay that was adhered to the gas pedal. We figured it might help Earl drive faster if the pedal would go down further. We finished by replacing items after attempting to coil the uncoilable ropes and detangling the jumper cables.

 With that done, we started on the body of the truck. This only had to be done after rain or snow to remove the mud. We used shovels and dull axes to cut away the rock hard clay from the wheel wells, bumper, and undercarriage. We had to be careful not to cut any wires or the gas line. We didn't worry too much about the brake lines. Earl never drove fast enough to utilize the brakes.

The last and final step was by far the worst. The first job was to pull everything visible, not trash, and toss it off over one side of the pickup, except propane bottles. No smart person throws propane bottles anywhere. When that was done, we took shovels, rakes, and pitchforks and tossed the hay, water, and oily sludge out of the back. One person, standing upwind, would watch for tools or other items falling out of the slimy mess. That person's job was to fish out the item using the thumb and forefinger crane method and put it in a mop bucket. These tools all had to be soaked in water, scrubbed, and dunked in oil before testing them to see if they were still usable. Often, though, they were just tossed in the bushes when no one was looking. There was always a moldy, rotting broom somewhere at the bottom to sweep the rest out, but it was never touched.

One time, I was given the job to do the cleaning, all alone. I was driving his truck that day. I have no idea what Earl was doing. No one, not even Earl, knew what Earl was doing during the day. I was checking wells, and driving from the Hinkson Ranch to the Garcia Headquarters. The two areas are connected by 10 to 15 miles of smooth and rough dirt roads. Right in the middle is the Artesian Well. We irrigated about one square mile of land using this well. It was maintained and paid for by Salt River Project as a result of a lawsuit. Thus, it was pumping 800 gallons per minute, 24 hours a day, 365 days per year. That amounts to roughly 6 million gallons per year! I dropped by to check on the pump occasionally. This time, the water was flowing into a nearby lake that we use for irrigation as well. It was also a very popular duck hunting site for us cowboys.

I parked by the well and began cleaning the cab. I had finished sweeping the dirt and dog hair from the cab when I had an amazing light bulb moment. I decided to wash the truck using the well! There was a valve that diverted the water to a pipe situated about 12 ft in the air. The pipe was used to fill water trucks if the need arose. I unloaded the tools I could see clearly, less than 10, and pulled directly under the pipe. I rolled up the windows, turned off the truck, and shut the doors. I shut off the well temporarily, diverted the water, and turned it back on. I had forgotten to open the tailgate. I could have shut off the well, but I decided I could still get it down quickly enough.

The tailgate had just been released when an 800 gallon per minute torrent poured out of the overhead pipe. The water slammed into the bed and rotten hay, oil, grease, and ice cold water hit me in the face and chest. I was thrown to the ground by the force and crab-crawled quickly out of the deluge. I was soaked from head to toe and smelled awful, but that truck bed was cleaning in a matter of seconds.

Unfortunately, I had another bright idea. I decided to continue with this new car wash by backing up slowly through the downpour to help clean off the mud and grime. I hopped, soaking wet, into the cab, turned the ignition, hit reverse, and backed up slowly. I could see muddy water cascading down the pickup. What a genius I was! Everyone was going to be amazed by my quick thinking.

I jumped out of the truck and stood beneath the water, or rather, ran back and forth through it till I was clean of the grime from the truck bed. Then I shut off the well, diverted the water back to the tank, and started the pump again. I sorted through the tools from the pickup bed and put them back in some sort of order, knowing it would be shambles after a mile of rough road. While in the back of the truck, I noticed something was different about the truck. The top of the cab h roof was caved in about an inch or two. I knew that Earl would never notice, but someone else, named Dad, would.

I quickly crawled into the cab in a cold sweat, lay on the seat, and pushed up with my feet on every inch of the cab ceiling. After some work, and many pops of metal, the roof returned to its original form, almost. I had been saved.

I used this method of cleaning the bed for many years after, in every truck that I drove,  but never again did I try washing the cab. It could just stay dirty. After all, it was only a ranch truck.