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So, I bought a truck. Not one of those lame new trucks though, I bought a beautiful old truck. A 1953 Dodge B-series 1/2 ton to be exact. She's awesome, and in great shape for being 55 years old. Of course she doesn't actually run, or start for that matter. Her brakes don't work. Nothing electrical works. She's got rust, though only one area of the passenger door is actually rusted through, otherwise just surface rust. Her bed is rotted out. The covering on her bench is shot. All her interior panels need to be replaced (if they're there at all). Sadly she is missing her hood ornament. The accelerator doesn't move. You know, the usual.

But at the same time, I think I already love her. She doesn't look like that picture any longer. I've pulled off all of the body pieces and have them stacked around my garage. I work on her when I can, covering myself in grease, rust, and dirt and of course a smile.

Here's a story that epitomizes our relationship. Last night I was working on removing the Driver's side door. Of course you need to remove this to get at the final bolts that hold on the front fender. Which in turn needs to come of so you can get access to the bolts holding on the grill. And all this needs to come of so you can pull the engine. Which needs to come out so you can get out the transmission. And the transmission needs to leave so you can work on the frame, etc, etc, etc.

Anyway, I'm working on the door right? Well the best way to remove the door is by driving out the hinge pins. Sounds easy enough, but then that doesn't take into account 55 years of rust and grit. The passenger side door hinge pins came out easy enough. Lube the hell out of them with WD-40, tap them with a hammer, and use a punch to drive them out. Done and done. For some reason though, the driver's side isn't that easy. I had given up a few days ago, and had left them to soak in their WD-40. Today I pounded on the upper one, and it moved. Hell yeah. I drove it out and all was good. I moved on to the lower one. I'm pounding away, but it's not moving. More WD-40, more pounding, and still not moving.

I try this for a good 15-20 minutes. Nothing. Screw this, those bolts right there, see them? Yeah, those hold this hinge on right? Let's just take those off instead and I can drive out this hinge pin later (I forgot to mention that this pin is in a difficult area to access. On the inside of the door, it's nestled between the door and the frame. To make matters worse, the support for the running board is right in the arc of your hammer and so blocks you from getting a good hit). I wrench free the four bolts, but nothing happens. The hinge is still attached. WTF. A visually examination reveals nothing. A tactile examination also reveals nothing. There's got to be a way to remove this hinge, I just don't know it.

Fine, the bolts don't do anything. I'm just going to have to drive this pin out the hard way. Back to the hammer and punches. Pounding and pounding, but nothing. I stop, stare at it hoping that I can figure something out, but there's really nothing to figure out. After all, this isn't rocket science, it isn't something that can be riddled out. There's only one way that pin is coming out, and that's by pounding it out. More WD-40, I start pounding. Each impact sprays a fine film of rust laden WD-40 all over me and the truck. I'm at my patience end.

I stop, rest, and let my temper subside (perhaps a useless tool case saw my bad side, but it's not talking).

All right, this pin isn't coming out on it's own (nor with my help it seems). I grab the grinder thinking I can cut it out, but because of the afore mentioned positioning of the hinge, I can't bring the grinder the bear on it. Shit. I'm cussing now, and feel a little despair growing in my gut. Fine. I angrily pound at the hinge pin. It moves a little.

It gives me an idea. I pound the pin as far as I can and then reverse it. I drive the pin back into place. Add some WD-40 and repeat. The third or fourth time I feel the end of the pin. I think it's further in. I'm excited. I escalate the process. I pound away. It's not going any further. I want to give up.

Screw that. No little pin is stopping me. I methodically go back at it. After three more cycles I'm pounding on one of my longer punches. Wait, did that strike sound different? Didn't that sound like the pin shifted? Hmm, don't get your hopes up. For good measure I give it a few more hits. And then I measure how far the punch is going in. Yes, that's surely deeper.

Three more cycles of pounding it back and forth, lubing it up with some WD-40 each time. And now I hear it, the pin is moving a tiny amount with each hit. You can tell, the way the punch rings with each hit. The tones is a little different when the pin moves. And then I look. That motherfucker is most definitely moving. I pound away, each strike lifting my heart a little more. And then with a glorious ring, the pin is free. I lift the greasy rust covered sucker grasping it triumphantly in my greasy rust covered hands and raising it above my head.

I give a heartfelt yell. I feel awesome. I just spent almost an hour and a half driving one little pin out of my trucks door hinge, and I feel incredible. It's funny, sometimes you can work on one thing for 10 minutes and feel like you've wasted your time, and then others you can spend hours on, and even if it's something that most people would see as trivial, to you it's time well spent.

I don't know what it is, but there was something in that moment. Something utterly ridiculous, but for me, something incredible. I know most people see my truck and they see a collection of rusted and dirty parts, hours of thankless labor, maybe many dollars to be spent. For me though, it's different. I look at her and I see the magic of holding a rust hinge pin a loft in my cold and dirty garage and I smile.