Howard Zehr always knew that people were attached to their pickups.

“I don't think I realized, though, the extent to which they would elicit stories and reflections, and how deeply the stories would be embedded in family histories,” says the photographer and author of the new coffee table book, “Pickups: A Love Story.”

The Virginia resident presents more than 63 stories, told in the voices of the trucks' owners, illustrated by 150-plus photographs.

“I soon realized that the people were as likable as their trucks and that their stories, some funny, some moving, are just plain interesting,” says Zehr, professor of restorative justice at the Center of Justice and Peacebuilding, Eastern Mennonite University, Harrisonburg, Va.

Whether sparkling new or older than dirt, a show-worthy beauty or rolling fender bender, many people have powerful, sometimes lifelong and multi-generational relationships with their trucks, giving them names, showing them love, treating them almost like members of their family and bragging like proud parents about their high-mileage achievements.

For some, the pickup represents the story of their lives, say Zehr and his friend, Mark Metzler Sawin, professor of history at Eastern Mennonite, who has a closing essay on the subject in this book.

“In American culture, our vehicles often say something about who we are, provide keys to identity, serve as repositories of memories and often function as forms of self-expression,” Sawin says.

It can be a symbol of independence and self-sufficiency, a reminder of an era that waxes nostalgic, a family connection, a way to make a living or just pursue happiness, Sawin says.

In 1999, for the first time in U.S. history, Americans bought more new trucks than cars, Sawin says. Since that year, he says, new pickup sales have remained ahead of car sales in 10 out of 12 years.

“Our market mirrors it pretty closely nationally,” says John Putzier, CEO of the Greater Pittsburgh Automobile Dealers Association. “Pickup trucks have been the top seller, particularly with Ford and Chevy.

“I'd be willing to bet the majority of people who buy pickups really don't need a pickup,” he adds, laughing. “They're a statement for some people.”

“The reason people own trucks is always clear,” Mark says. “It's because they love them. And, in the end, that's all that really matters.”

Today, our readers share stories of why their trucks matter to them.

A girl, her dad and his truck

For Sali Hott of Sewickley, sleeping on the back porch as a child on sweltering summer nights in the 1960s was not a chore but an opportunity.

“I loved it out there. It gave me an even better perch to watch the comings and goings of the favorite man in my life: my father (Paul ‘Hank' Zivkovich), and the truck,” she says.

She could hear the red '53 Ford approaching from blocks away. “Its engine was beautiful music to my ears,” she says.

“Bone tired, often after working a double shift at Crucible Steel in Midland, he would soon pour a cup of coffee and sit on the porch steps, his shadow, me, right next to him, ears perked and ready to listen to the rich tales he wove and the lessons he taught to develop my moral code and my cookbook to use through life.

“That old truck was my friend,” Hott says.

It was where she curled up and cried when the world became too mean, where she slept in her mother's lap when the drive-in ran too long. Its bed became her play pen.

She can recall the faded black-and-white photograph of her when she was about 3, wearing a babushka and pinning her doll's clothes to a thin line she strung from her father's rear view mirror. “Yet, he never said a word, just shared the space with me,” she says.

She loved when her entire family was in the truck.

“There was my father driving, me in the middle, then my mother with my sister, Rita, in her lap. I know, totally illegal, but you did what you had to until you could afford something else and we were so little,” she says. “We would ... go for a Sunday ride or for ice cream. Someone would always start to sing. The truck, she was amazing, always keeping perfect time to our singing, like a cadence with the roll of her tires.”

“My life was rich beyond measure,” Hott reflects with tears in her eyes. “I never knew.”

After a four-year search by Hott and her boyfriend for a truck that reminded her of the vehicle of her childhood, she found success in Weirton, W.Va., with a 1948 Dodge pickup, which they are now working on.

“My dream is to pick up my lovely, now-92-year-old pop from the independent nursing home where he resides, and see the look of surprise and delight and understanding in his eyes when he sees it,” she says.

“He will know without asking why I bought this truck,” she says. “We were partners in crime, you see.”

Building a father-son bond

When Alan Gutknecht, 43, of Fawn jumps into his pickup, he is confident his late father, Albert Gutknecht, is riding right along with him.

Trucks — fixing them, driving them, talking about them — were the way they bonded.

Sometimes they would be out for weeks together on the long hauls that his dad, a Springdale resident, made as a professional truck operator.

“He is with me every time I take the big (pickup) truck out. When I get in, I think of my dad,” Gutknecht says. “Right before he passed away, he helped me finish it.”

He is speaking of his black '79 Chevy Bonanza. Gutknecht, who works in a body shop, likes taking it to car and truck cruises and shows.

“Little kids enjoy it. They think it is a monster truck, the tires are so big,” he says.

He is not surprised that so many people are into pickups. He owns three.

“They made the country,” he says. “Dad always said, if you needed to get something hauled or done, get in a truck.”

Restoration a life lesson

Jeremy McCall's truck, a 1974 Dodge W300 quad cab, has had more than its 15 minutes of fame.

Undergoing a five-year restoration, it's been the subject of a song (“Big Blue Dodge”), a video and an album cover, as well as many family adventures.

Guitarist-songwriter McCall of Ligonier, who teaches at LJ's Loft in Irwin and has performed worldwide, had always been a fan of Dodge trucks of the 1970s, and he searched for a four-door for many years.

“I wound up finding one on a mountain about 20 miles from home. We literally (dragged) the truck home and pushed it into the driveway,” he says. Converting it from a two- to a four-wheel drive, and adding many custom features, it more that satisfied his needs.

“It's not a perfect restoration, or a trailer queen by any estimation,” McCall says. “The truck was built so that I could haul things and take my family.”

Along the way, there were some spiritual and life lessons.

“I think God had a hand in this truck-building experience. He taught me valuable life lessons about patience, attention to detail and seeing a project through to the very end, no matter how long or difficult the process,” McCall says. “There were many days that I wanted to quit, truthfully. There were problems that would come up that seemed overwhelming. Lots of prayer in that truck.”

Beauty in the eye of the truck-holder

“A work truck has the same appeal as your grandfather's calloused hand reaching out to put a ball in your mitt,” says Scott Urbanek, an English teacher who grew up in Bethel Park and now lives in Washington County. “It embodies the moth-swarmed nostalgia of lights flooding a field for a night game.”

After three years of piecing together multiple parts from '77, '78 and '79 Ford F-150s, Urbanek, 37, is ready to unleash his “rolling steel obelisk,” a former farm truck that he purchased for $700.

“It is perhaps the most magnificently beautiful possession I have ever seen,” he says. “I am unreasonably alone in this sentiment.”

Most people look at his truck and see, “at best a lawsuit; at worst death,” he says.

He has endured ridicule from friends and family and been forced to fend off “do-gooders” who wish to purchase his behemoth and “fix it up right.”

“I built this pig to growl and stomp. Paint and chrome don't cut the mustard,” he says. “This truck, complete with rust and wreck, is the one I have been dreaming of since I was a child. I still get giddy when I start it. It rumbles like a beast in a box.”

Get me to the reception on time

Jim McCurdy's 1979 Ford F-150, which he bought that year and still owns, has worked hard for the retired White Oak resident: hauling firewood, cement blocks, loads of new windows, flooring from a sawmill in the mountains and all things imaginable for reconstruction and landscaping projects.

The most unusual transport probably was a bride and groom.

“Everyone left the church and forgot them, so guess who had to take them to the reception,” says McCurdy, who was working as a part-time wedding photographer.

“I'm sure their favorite photo was the one of the two of them in the truck,” he says.

“I have probably had 10 or more cars since I purchased the truck, but I kept it because it has always worked well for me,” McCurdy says. “It's always nice to have (a truck) to go pick up a large item, help a friend or to help with your hobbies.”

Negotiating a W.Va. feud

Carolee Newman's efforts to retrieve her late father's 1994 Mazda pickup turned into a “long, strange trip.”

In spring of 2012, she and her daughter-in-law, Lindsay, drove to Bennettsville, S.C., to get the truck that had been sitting in her mother's garage since 2003 when her dad died.

“My mother was moving into a personal care home, and the truck needed a new home as well,” says Newman of Sewickley.

The truck died in southern West Virginia, and could only be hauled on a flatbed. The two found a flatbed driver, Woody, but were told the only nearby available mechanic was Woody's in-law and they reportedly hated each other.

So, she made the decision to avoid the feud and have Woody take the truck to the closest non-relative's garage, even though it was 100 miles away.

“We piled our belongings into his cab, and he drove us to a shop in Fairmont,” Newman says.

A day and $500 later, the women finally rolled into Sewickley.

“Needless to say, I love this truck and the fact that three generations have enjoyed it,” Newman says. “My son uses it to commute to Penn State Beaver, and when he's not using it, my Sheltie, Daisy May, rides shotgun in Sewickley with me. I will always own this truck because of the wonderful memories I have of my late father and his beloved Lab, Possum, riding shotgun through the cotton fields of South Carolina.”

A family project

Mark Weisseg calls the search for his dream pickup “a true family love story.”

“Without my brothers and my nephews, it would still be sitting in North Dakota. You simply would not believe this family. I am blessed,” the Cranberry resident says. “They know this is my dream project, and because of my health issues, they are doing all the heavy lifting and restoring it for me. The male side of my family is all pitching in to get this old truck back on the road.”

Weisseg, 54, always was intrigued with the idea of locating a “barn find” truck. “I found one on the Internet on a farm in North Dakota, a 1949 Chevy, stashed away since 1980,” he says.

He made arrangements to have it shipped to his brother, Craig Weisseg, 60, in the Chicago area, who volunteered to lead the restoration team that includes his oldest brother, Bruce, 64, and three nephews.

Mark Weisseg confers with Craig almost daily and anticipates the truck will be in his possession at the end of summer. “I will finish it off with a lot of minor items, and it will be road-worthy by year's end,” he says.

He has been documenting the journey and hopes it will become a book.

“Old trucks for me represent a simple way of life. It is associated with a farm or hard work for a decent wage,” he says. “A real guy understands the truck and what it means to have one.”

‘Fred' was love at first sight

If there ever was an example of “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Linda Ripper says it was her father's truck.

“My dad, Clair Tinkey, is 86 years old and has shown love for his pickup over his lifetime that very few could match,” says Ripper of Norvelt, Mt. Pleasant Township.

Tinkey and his wife, Edith, live in United, Mt. Pleasant Township.

When her dad laid eyes on “Fred,” the name of endearment he gave to the half-ton, 3100 series, 1953 Chevrolet, in 1957, it seemed to be love at first sight. He considered it “the purchase of the century” for $150.

“For the next 29 years, during the daytime hours, ‘Fred' could be seen on Route 30 heading to General Tire in Jeannette where dad worked,” his daughter says. “During the evening hours, ‘Fred' hauled water, horse manure, lawn mowers, kids to cheerleading practice, kids to piano practice, loads of coal, and anything else that needed hauling for neighbors and friends.”

When “Fred” started showing signs of old age, Tinkey found a motor and rebuilt his mechanical buddy to give him new life. But he never painted the truck because he loved its original look.

Besides, Ripper says, “He was too busy keeping the head gasket and valves in tip-top shape.”

When the body finally gave out, after an estimated 200,000 miles (the odometer also had broken), and the vehicle had to be taken off the road, her dad could not part with “‘Fred,'” she says. A friend stored the truck in a barn for safe keeping.

Recently, the barn and all contents were sold to a pro shop in Springfield, Mo. “It is Dad's understanding that ‘Fred' will be shown in that shop exactly like it was when it made its last trip down the road,” Ripper says.

“Dad still lights up when someone asks him whatever happened to his old truck. His love for ‘Fred' is obvious to this day,” she says. “His dream is to someday visit Springfield and cast his eyes upon his ‘beauty' one last time.”

Artful conveyance

Bud Gibbons' truck is a work of art.

The veteran artist, teacher and director of the Penn State, New Kensington, art gallery preserved his 1946 Chevy pickup in an oil-and-acrylic painting.

“My truck and I are the same age. We were both made in 1946, I was born in March of 1947,” he likes to tell people. It was a gift from his wife Patti, 16 years ago on his 50th birthday.

Raised with trucks on a farm, the Lower Burrell resident estimates he has logged 185,000 miles in the truck, using it as a work vehicle to support his prolific painting. “I can drive it into fields or dirt roads and carry my painting supplies,” he says.

About 12,000 miles ago, his friend Doc Wetzel of Lower Burrell rebuilt the engine completely, among other upgrades.

“These old trucks put you in touch with other people who share your interest in taking care of a vintage vehicle,” Gibbons says. “You can build strong friendships and take pride in keeping a piece of history in good working condition.”

Immortalized in ink

Trixy is the only “girl” with her name tattooed on him, Anton Miriello of Swissvale says proudly.

“She has a rich history of starting a greaser car club with me, has had three complete and total re-dos, my father and I did all the work, she was my first vehicle,” he says.

When she is not functioning as a somewhat-traditional pickup, Trixy performs as the tow vehicle for the Mirello's Trundle Manor Traveling Creepshow (www.trundlemanor.com ).

“Not much cooler than that,” he says. “She's a 1952 Dodge and still has the original bed, but there isn't much stock left in her any more.”

She has been through a lot in her life, he says. “I lost three wheels on the highway at various times, due to work done before I bought her.”

He still shakes his head when people approach him and Trixy in a parking lot and ask, “Does it run?”

“I'll never understand how people think the world works,” he says.

Rex Rutkoski is a staff writer for Trib Total Media. He can be reached at 724-226-4664 or rrutkoski@tribweb.com.

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