George & Lori Smullen with Grandson Ethan’s 1947 Ford pickup truck Shortly after I completed my bicycle trip from Alaska to Waupun, commemorating my retirement, I attended a year’s worth of welding classes at Moraine Park Technical College in Fond du Lac, about twenty miles from Waupun. I wanted to learn how to cut out and “patch” rusted body parts of old vehicles. I now know how to weld with oxy-acetylene as well as stick, Mig, and Tig. I had an excellent instructor.
On Saturday, May 10, 2014, grandson Ethan took his girlfriend Michaela to the Randolph High School’s junior prom in his 1947 Ford pickup truck, highly modified by his Grandpa. It took six years and a lot of blood, sweat, and curses to get that old Iowa farm truck to where it now is.
With its whitewall radial tires and power assisted disc brakes, the truck rests on a frame of a 1986 Ford Ranger truck I bought and immediately took apart. Earlier, I had discovered on the Internet that a Ranger with an extended box had the same wheel base as the old ’47. That way, I lowered the truck, added front disc brakes, and modern suspension. (I’ll never do that again—much too much fabrication of unique parts was called for).
Ethan’s truck has a Chevrolet 355 V-8 engine, an automatic transmission with overdrive, a Ford 9-inch rear end, stereo, heater, air conditioner, ah-oogah horn, power windows, and an aluminum tonneau cover over its box that lifts up and comes back down electronically.
The wood pieces that make up the floor of the box are separated by stainless steel strips. Before I installed the strips, I applied eleven coats of spar varnish to those wood pieces. After each application, I carefully sanded the boards with less aggressive sand paper. I started with 120 grit and ended up with 2,500 grit, second cousin to typing paper.
Six LED 1939 Ford teardrop brake lights are at the rear of the truck, three on each side. They operate sequentially and are something to behold when the turn signal is actuated or the brake pedal is applied.
Chrome was not an option on farm trucks in 1947. Thus, I didn’t want to have the grille, bumpers, wheel covers, and spears chromed. Painting those pieces wasn’t an option, I thought, because paint wasn’t tough enough. I had heard of powder coating. So, I visited a professional powder coater and was flabbergasted at hearing his price.
So, I bought a professional powder coating gun, paid five bucks for an old electric stove that had sat in a barn for a few years, ordered a blasting cabinet, heat lamp, an array of colored powders, along with a book on powder coating. After reading and experimenting, I taught myself how to powder coat well enough to do the job. By the way, all the equipment I purchased was about the same price as what the powder coating pro wanted to charge me.
After attaching an alligator clip to each metal piece, I plugged the gun’s transformer into a 115 volt outlet and attached an air hose to the gun, itself. Electro-magnetism is at work as the powder that is pushed out by the forced air is attracted to the metal piece. Once the piece is covered with powder, it must be heated at 400 degrees for twenty minutes. That’s when the plastic powder “flows out.” The result is beautiful. Once the finished piece is cool enough to handle, it can be used immediately. And the stuff’s tough enough, I assure you. All the cream color on the truck is powder-coated.
The 6000 watt powder coating heat lamp is used on large pieces, and the old kitchen stove is used for smaller pieces. Whenever I use the lamp, I’m certain employees at Waupun Utilities jump with joy.
The first time I turned on the stove’s oven, I had to rush out of the garage because the stink was too much. The result of heating mouse droppings and urine to 400 degrees is something else. Thankfully, the stink is no more.
I also attended an engine class at Moraine Park before I purchased the salvage yard Chevrolet engine that is the truck’s heart. A machine shop enlarged the cylinder walls by .030 of an inch. That’s how a Chevy 350 becomes a Chevy 355. Then, I wrenched on the engine until it was ready to light up.
I did all the massaging on the exterior and interior body and my brother-in-law Lyle Stam painted the truck. He did a fantastic job as you can see. Fond du Lac’s United Auto Trim did an equally fanciful job on the interior, which is also red and cream.
Why did I do all that work and spend all those bucks? The reason is simple: It’s all due to Frank Colacicco (Kah-lah-CHEEK-oh), my maternal grandfather. It’s a tribute to that Italian-American’s memory. Frank was a good man and taught me much when I was ten years old. I shall never forget him. He’s also the reason I’m modifying a 1939 Dodge 2-door fast back sedan for Sawyer Westra, my younger grandson. I hope both boys will remember me as I still recall Grandfather Frank. I am deeply grateful for his wisdom, which he freely dispensed to his red-haired, freckle-faced Irish-Dago grandson. I’m trying to do the same thing with both Ethan and Sawyer.
On Saturday, May 10, 2014, grandson Ethan took his girlfriend Michaela to the Randolph High School’s junior prom in his 1947 Ford pickup truck, highly modified by his Grandpa. It took six years and a lot of blood, sweat, and curses to get that old Iowa farm truck to where it now is.
With its whitewall radial tires and power assisted disc brakes, the truck rests on a frame of a 1986 Ford Ranger truck I bought and immediately took apart. Earlier, I had discovered on the Internet that a Ranger with an extended box had the same wheel base as the old ’47. That way, I lowered the truck, added front disc brakes, and modern suspension. (I’ll never do that again—much too much fabrication of unique parts was called for).
Ethan’s truck has a Chevrolet 355 V-8 engine, an automatic transmission with overdrive, a Ford 9-inch rear end, stereo, heater, air conditioner, ah-oogah horn, power windows, and an aluminum tonneau cover over its box that lifts up and comes back down electronically.
The wood pieces that make up the floor of the box are separated by stainless steel strips. Before I installed the strips, I applied eleven coats of spar varnish to those wood pieces. After each application, I carefully sanded the boards with less aggressive sand paper. I started with 120 grit and ended up with 2,500 grit, second cousin to typing paper.
Six LED 1939 Ford teardrop brake lights are at the rear of the truck, three on each side. They operate sequentially and are something to behold when the turn signal is actuated or the brake pedal is applied.
Chrome was not an option on farm trucks in 1947. Thus, I didn’t want to have the grille, bumpers, wheel covers, and spears chromed. Painting those pieces wasn’t an option, I thought, because paint wasn’t tough enough. I had heard of powder coating. So, I visited a professional powder coater and was flabbergasted at hearing his price.
So, I bought a professional powder coating gun, paid five bucks for an old electric stove that had sat in a barn for a few years, ordered a blasting cabinet, heat lamp, an array of colored powders, along with a book on powder coating. After reading and experimenting, I taught myself how to powder coat well enough to do the job. By the way, all the equipment I purchased was about the same price as what the powder coating pro wanted to charge me.
After attaching an alligator clip to each metal piece, I plugged the gun’s transformer into a 115 volt outlet and attached an air hose to the gun, itself. Electro-magnetism is at work as the powder that is pushed out by the forced air is attracted to the metal piece. Once the piece is covered with powder, it must be heated at 400 degrees for twenty minutes. That’s when the plastic powder “flows out.” The result is beautiful. Once the finished piece is cool enough to handle, it can be used immediately. And the stuff’s tough enough, I assure you. All the cream color on the truck is powder-coated.
The 6000 watt powder coating heat lamp is used on large pieces, and the old kitchen stove is used for smaller pieces. Whenever I use the lamp, I’m certain employees at Waupun Utilities jump with joy.
The first time I turned on the stove’s oven, I had to rush out of the garage because the stink was too much. The result of heating mouse droppings and urine to 400 degrees is something else. Thankfully, the stink is no more.
I also attended an engine class at Moraine Park before I purchased the salvage yard Chevrolet engine that is the truck’s heart. A machine shop enlarged the cylinder walls by .030 of an inch. That’s how a Chevy 350 becomes a Chevy 355. Then, I wrenched on the engine until it was ready to light up.
I did all the massaging on the exterior and interior body and my brother-in-law Lyle Stam painted the truck. He did a fantastic job as you can see. Fond du Lac’s United Auto Trim did an equally fanciful job on the interior, which is also red and cream.
Why did I do all that work and spend all those bucks? The reason is simple: It’s all due to Frank Colacicco (Kah-lah-CHEEK-oh), my maternal grandfather. It’s a tribute to that Italian-American’s memory. Frank was a good man and taught me much when I was ten years old. I shall never forget him. He’s also the reason I’m modifying a 1939 Dodge 2-door fast back sedan for Sawyer Westra, my younger grandson. I hope both boys will remember me as I still recall Grandfather Frank. I am deeply grateful for his wisdom, which he freely dispensed to his red-haired, freckle-faced Irish-Dago grandson. I’m trying to do the same thing with both Ethan and Sawyer.
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