Perfect afternoon for a bicycle ride and I was taking full advantage of it. Probably the longest ride I've had this year. I happened upon a Ram truck with a trailer in tow pulled over to the curb. Gentleman was checking the straps and ties that secured an old pickup truck weather-worn and from another automotive era. I stopped.
"Nice set of old wheels," I remarked.
"I see you are a Ford man," the gentleman replied.
"Indeed, I had one much like that. Mine was a '52."
"This one," he informed me, is a '46 or '47, not sure which."
In a flash and without thinking about it I said, "Forty-seven."
"You're probably right."
(You see, without bidding it to happen I was suddenly my thirteen-year old self who would have instantly known the distinctions between the two years even though I had certainly not thought about that in the past seventy years.)
So I deliberately turned my attention to the windshield. Yep, flat one-piece. Confirmation, for I was certain for no reason that I can pinpoint that the '46 still used the prewar two-piece windshield.
"Where did you find this one?" I asked.
"Here. Well, locally. Elwood, I think. I am hauling it to Ohio for my brother."
He pointed out a few features of the old truck, I told him a bit about the one I had. He slyly drew attention to his tow vehicle, secretly hoping, I suspect, that I would admire it, and I did.
"Welp, I'd better get along," the man told me. "Thanks for stopping and visiting with me!"
"My pleasure! Be safe."
(And if you are wondering, yes, as soon as I got home I used the interwebby thing to look at the '46 and the '47.
'47, one-piece; '46, two-piece.)