I used to worry about big things. Can I really do a McArthur on the frame and survive. Will the gas tank fit. Does anything forward of the spliced midsection of the frame actually work. Will the DMV let me drive it. Can I afford to keep doing this.

Now I think about little things. Ignition switches with real Dodge keys. Blinkers signaling inside the cab. That paint chip on the tailgate. How to keep the smell of gas out of the uninsulated cab. How I will sound proof. If I should redo the doors and windows myself or farm it out before I break the rattling glass. How to deal with dim bulbs (thanks Plymothy, I'll try that). Is the gas tank empty yet. Should I hook up those heater controls. Where do I get mirrors from. How can I make a monthly budget to keep it going.

That's right, now I'm driving it. Any time I have an excuse. They are short trips. Less than10 miles. But it is out there. People point. I get thumbs up. I am now the the guy waving back. I've taken it to a car show as a participant. People ask questions. I show pictures to anyone foolish enough to listen - like a Dad with a new born child. I talk their ears off. I'm passionate and knowledgeable about it.

I used to be a guy who wanted a truck. Now I am an owner of a running truck. It's different. I am very excited by it. Not sure what it means.

I think it's a journey.

Thank you Mr. Hemingway