“All I wanted to do was fix my old pickup truck,”  Michael Perry writes, “That and plant my garden, then I met this woman.”

The truck was rusting in peace behind the barn, when Perry decided  to  get it going again.

He’d bought the truck when he was in college for  $150.

 

“And I just remember climbing into that thing.  And I don’t know if it’s because you’re a country boy and you grow up with pickup trucks or what, but I felt so at home. And the solidity of those old trucks.  You know I wear boots.  I almost always wear boots.  You know I’ve got one pair of dress shoes I’ll wear out of respect. Mostly I wear boots.  I wore boots to my own wedding.  And my theory with boots is if things go to heck you’re ready to deal with it. And I feel the same about an old pickup truck. One of the point s aobu this book in getting this truck resurrected and running again is not to restore it, it was to get it so I could bang around and use it, and to drive into the woods, and if I scratched it, well, it’s an International, you got the deer in the back you’re bring home to feed your family.  And I think that’s what I love about old pickup trucks.”

 

Perry was born in Wisconsin Rapids.  His Dad worked at the paper mill.  When he was two the family moved to New Auburn, north of Eau Claire and started farming.  Perry gets a lot of mileage out of being a farm kid.  And he’s a true son of Wisconsin, especially when talking about a kidney stone he was afflicted by.

 

“The first twinge  I got from the kidney stone reminded me of gas pains you get from eating too much bratwurst at bedtime.  When I do that joke for Wisconsin audience I get a big laugh and the more distance you put between yourself and the Wisconsin border the laugh tails off.  Even in Iowa they don’t laugh that much.  So it’s just that comfort with place.”

 

Perry acknowledges he pretty klutzy with tools. He knows  he can’t  fix the truck by himself. So he relies on his brother-in-law Mark.  Mark is a NASCAR fan with dirty fingernails.  A highly skilled backwoods mechanic  with a well equipped shop.  A magician with a plasma torch.

 

“We’ve reached a point where  those guys who are missing a finger and they got grease in the crack of their hands.  Or the woman who shows some weathering in her hands looks like she’s been digging in the potato patch.  We’ve gotten real shiny and digital and fast and we don’t notice those people anymore. But when things go to heck and you need to warm your house and you need to feed yourself we’re gonna find those folks are a great repository of talent.”

 

During the year he was gardening and working on the truck he met his future bride Annaliese .  Michael Perry was  a thirtynine  year old bachelor, batting he says  1000 percent on shipwrecked romances.  But Michael and Annaliese eventually married. They share two daughters.

 

When asked about what community means Michael Perry harks back to his days as a first responder.

 

“There’s this little old guy in New Auburn.  Lived alone. He had a heart I described it as a broke down roller coaster. When you took his pulse it was pretty scary. Every once in awhile it would get the best of him. He’d check out.  And we’d have to come and find him in his little room. And he’s be in bed looking up at us into the light of our flashlights.  And this went on for sometime.  And eventually he died.   But there was one night about two in the morning when we came through the door with the light and he looked up with that expectancy.  And I was struck by the fact that the time is coming when I’m going to be that little old guy. And I sure help my neighbors come to help me.  And that’s community to me.  Never mind of people in the official capacity coming to help you, but your neighbors coming to help you.”

Nick Vander Puy Superior Broadcast Network