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How It All Started

In 1982, my first ride reflected a shameless need for transportation. It was a cranky 30-year old truck whose value had shrunk to a level my minimum wage could bear.

She languished in the Tennessee woods until I recognized potential beneath the rust. Dad supervised the rescue. We removed a rat's nest from the headliner, inflated the tires, poured gas in the carb, and cranked her up.

On the road she rattled, leaked, and groaned. Dry-rotted recaps threw chunks of rubber. She loped along like a drunken dinosaur.

Despite the inconveniences, I learned to love "Shelley." I even boasted of driving her to Alaska that summer. Dad wrenched her into a dependable driver and he wrenched me into a clumsy mechanic. With a $12 socket set and a wellspring of confidence, I set out--not for Alaska--but for college instead. There she served dependably and earned my respect for her bare bones simplicity.

I grew older, but was unable to shake the idea of a bone-jarring 40-mph drive up the Alaska Highway.

What finally convinced me was Dad's cancer diagnosis. At 64 he had rarely complained of any ailments, save an occasional cold. Once a pillar of physical strength, he faced an 18-month struggle and died in 1998.

He had given so much of his time and his love to make Shelley a dependable driver when I couldn't afford a better machine. His memory deserved the honor of taking the truck on the adventure. Thus, "10,000 Miles for a Cancer Cure" was born.

The journey began June 11, 2000. Read more in Terry Kohl's article "A Dream and an Old Truck."