Lot's of farm and ranch kid stories, so I'll add mine.
We had a 1958 El Camino that was our ranch manure truck. It was always parked under a tree near the main stable and my Dad build a ramp we'd back the truck up to so we could load wheel barrels full of road apples into the bed. A weeks worth would fill the truck up, way up.
The truck had been my Uncles until in passed away in 1965, then we drove up to SF and brought it home.
My job was to take he manure the many other small ranches and farms in the area that had huge gardens.
I was nine when I started doing the manure runs, all on back roads, private roads, etc. It took me a few weeks and a few jams to get good, but once you master tres on the tree, a heavy clutch, a long throw and manual steering, not much bothers you.
I had the time of my life. I always had my Marlin lever action .22 by my side, just in case a Jackrabbit rebellion needed squelching
