View from the Cab: The grain truck

By: Kent Casson

Grandpa’s old International grain truck sure brings back the memories.

After hauling a few loads of rock with the old truck over the summer, I couldn’t help but flashback to the time I was just a kid riding with Grandpa or Dad to the nearby Weston grain elevator with a wagon being pulled behind the truck. We’d dump in the old inside pit then drive around to weigh empty before heading inside to the elevator break room to grab a candy bar or pop. Life was good with not a worry in the world.

I recall sitting on that bench seat pretending to shift while the truck was parked in the field on the end waiting for another load to haul into town. The radio was AM only but I didn’t care. Being the radio geek I am, I constantly turned the tuner up and down the radio dial to find an AM station playing music. I even got on the CB radio once in a while to communicate with the combine operator or see if I could overhear any other conversations in the neighborhood.

It was fascinating to turn the volume up on that old radio when dumping inside the elevator as we only heard the hum of static. I’m sure it annoyed the person I was riding with. The truck was a little warm inside on a hot day – as were many trucks in that era with no air conditioning. You had to cool off the old way by cranking the windows down on the open road.

One of my aunts used Grandpa’s label maker to print names of various family members and tape them onto the dashboard in various locations. This was a true family grain truck and we were reminded of it each time we got in it. I came across a 1970’s-era envelope provided by the local grain elevator as a way to store grain sheets. The envelope is still in there and gives us a little glimpse of the past.

This was one of the grain trucks I learned to haul-in grain with back when I was in high school. I credit my ability to drive a manual transmission with my days practicing on the little farm car we had growing up, but I’ll save that for another article. I continued my role as Grain Hauler Casson throughout the rest of my high school and college years (and beyond).

Grandpa used to have an old red Ford grain truck in addition to this one. I do recall the smell of mothballs in the cab to keep the mice out and how the radio didn’t work in that one. I’ll never forget the white letters painted on the shiny red doors, “Dale Casson, Fairbury, ILL.” Thought this truck was sold a number of years ago, I do recall driving it a bit. Now I wish it was still around.

We are lucky to have that International grain truck still with us, which also has the name “Dale Casson” on it. It is an honor to drive the truck once in a while as the memories come flooding back and I can’t help but smile.