An unusual life: The Jeep half-track story

I used to answer the phone after school for my dad. Someone knew we had a half-track and called one day about a Jeep Half-Track. Having never heard of any such thing I thought the caller was confused. I asked a lot of questions and the person was positive that’s what he had.

When my dad got home I relayed the message and he immediately got out Bart Vanderveen’s book and turned to the page. Needless to say we called and made arrangements to go see it. It was within 30 miles for where we lived in Somerset, PA. We bought it immediately. I recently found the receipt written on the back of a business card with the receipt.

We were surprised to learn that in the Vanderveen book is shows a small dent in the front fender and that same dent was on the fender! This was very exciting. We brought it home and took the body and hung it from the ceiling so it wouldn’t be damaged and put everything else under it in our big shop building. There it sat from the 1970’s until late 80’s or early 90’s when my dad decided to sell it to his best friend in VT, Albert Pike. He did so with the understanding that Albert could machine parts needed since we didn’t have equipment or skill to do that. Unfortunately Albert sold it to the current owner in England.

The current owner reached out to me several times over the years to ask questions and to my dad. He mailed me a copy each time he wrote a book and included personal notes. He mentioned us I believe. I do have those books and letters packed away. I’ll share when I come across them.

We learned over the years after we acquired it that there were I believe three prototypes if memory serves. They were sold to a scrap dealer in North Central PA. I can’t quite remember who it was, but I used to know it. One person saw this and saved the one that is left and hoped to go back for the others, but they were scrapped before he could do so. Therefore this is the only one in existence.

I have led a very interesting life some say.

The Quiet in Snow

When it snows and it’s all quiet, it takes me back to my favorite memory with my dad. He plowed snow in the winter at the local Jamesway discount store and A & P grocery store in Somerset, PA in the 1970’s.

He would get up very early in the morning so it would be all plowed before employees started arriving. The stores were supposed to put up all shopping carts the night before.

This started with a WWII truck. The battery was on the passenger floorboard. When I would ride, I would rest my feet on the battery with instructions to avoid the battery terminals.

The next truck was a former municipal truck that was much bigger. It was an International. It was a great step up.

The last truck that he used he built. It was a 5-ton dump that we bought from surplus. He engineered to put a 250 Cummins and 5-speed in it and custom painted it. He put boards on the bed for advertising. It was an exceptional piece of equipment.

I didn’t get to ride with my dad all the time. Some days I would have school. In those days we didn’t get out of school for bad weather! On days that I didn’t have school or the weekend I loved to ride along. It was so quiet and peaceful.

He would make a circle around the parking lot and keep going around and around. I see people today go in straight lines back and forth and just don’t get it. It’s so efficient to go around and keep going around smaller and smaller circles around the parking lot.

We would plow the up to the light poles. Occasionally there would be a random shopping cart that didn’t get put inside the store. We would joke about it and plow it up in a huge pile of snow around the light pole. They would find it in the spring!

We started plowing across the street at the bank and Kentucky Fried Chicken. We also plowed our long driveway in the woods.

Often on days off from school there was a tiny little gas station up the road that was run by a friend of my dad’s. It wasn’t as big as a convenience store today. There was a little device similar to a toaster oven but super fast for packaged sandwiches. They only had a few sandwiches. My favorite was the chuckwagon. I have no idea what it was about that sandwich, but to this day I love a good chuckwagon sandwhich. It must have something to do with the memory of good times with my dad.

This is one photo of the last truck. I know I have other photos of the other truck too somewhere in my collection.

Comfort Zones Don’t Keep You Safe—They Keep You Still

We get comfortable with life and get habits that we stay with and to some degree for life. Are you stubborn and not willing to change? I was for some time as well. I was often accused of being anal retentive. My books had to be in a specific order and if someone moved one to be funny I felt myself coming unglued!

I decided I didn’t want to be held hostage by my habits that made me feel safe and comfortable. I started mixing books up on purpose. I’ve made uncomfortable changes over the last few years.

The cost of ‘safe’ is invisible compounding—skills you never build, clients you never meet. Decluttering one shelf isn’t about stuff; it’s about proving you can.

A practical way to leave your comfort zone using tiny experiments, safety nets, and momentum—no hype, just steps.

I got out of my comfort zone when I moved into real estate. I got out of my comfort zone when I started doing YouTube videos. I got out of my comfort zone when I got a GoPro camera for trail riding videos. I started a new business recently that’s separate from real estate and aimed at serving seniors.

I’ve been using ChatGPT and using it regularly. I’ve been taking more courses to learn more.

What would get you out of your comfort zone? What would you like to learn or do that you’re afraid to or don’t think you’re good enough?

I took a 600+ mile trip in my 1963 Studebaker Avanti last month from Roanoke, VA to Washington, PA.