An oncoming driver in a pickup truck raised a hand in salute as Terry Cox cruised south on McKinney Loop in his dark blue 1969 El Camino.
“Everyone knows my vehicle in Blanco,” Cox said, waving in return. “But 90 percent of the time, I don’t know who they are because they’ve had three or four cars in all the time that I’ve had this one.”
For nearly 31 years, Cox–who’s lived in Blanco since 1981–and the iconic truck he calls Blue have been an item. “It does everything I want it do to, and it doesn’t talk back,” he said, grinning. “And when it does, everybody notices.”
Cox first laid eyes on the Chevrolet El Camino in 1989 at a friend’s house.
“Mrs. Tucker Lindeman bought it brand new in 1969,” Cox recalled. “Then she traded it for a newer Ford from Butch Triesch, who had a car lot in town. Butch used a friend of mine, James Nolte, for detailing cars. I swung by James’ house one evening to see if he wanted to play pool. He was detailing this car for Butch. He had the car doors open and the stereo blasting.”
“I told him, ‘Nolte, do a good job at detailing that car ’cause I’m gonna buy it in the morning.”
The next day, Cox–who grew up in San Antonio but spent summers working with his grandfather, Floyd Cox–haggled with Triesch, who finally agreed to sell the El Camino for $2,000 and some sheet rock work. A girlfriend came up with the cash, and soon Cox drove off in his 20-year-old El Camino, which only had 44,000 miles on the odometer. “It took me two years, but I paid off the $2,000,” Cox said.
“For years, Mrs. Lindeman–whenever she saw me and Blue–would say, ‘TC, I wish I’d never traded in that car,’” he added, chuckling.
Blue, however, wasn’t always blue. “It came putrid gold,” Cox said, grimacing. “Rick White painted it blue for me in 1990. Then Dobie Benson painted it again for me in ’96 after I had my one fender bender.”
In their three decades of togetherness, Cox and Blue have driven all over Texas and from coast to coast. “It’s pulled a two-horse trailer,” said Cox, who works as a reenactor for Western and Civil War movies. “It’s got half a million miles on it. We’ve been to southern California, South Carolina and up to Kansas. It’s never let me down.”
Last year, Cox turned 70, and Blue turned 50. To celebrate their milestones, Cox overhauled the El Camino from end to end. “It’s got a new bumper, fenders, engine and transmission,” he said. “It’s as close to new as new can be. All I have left to do is to install the new interior.”
Three years ago, Cox and some cousins test drove each other’s vehicles during the Christmas holidays. “One had a new Mercedes,” he said. “Another had a Cadillac. We all agreed that this car drove better than anyone else’s car in the family. It really does ride quiet and smooth. It’s a little noisy right now because I don’t have the new carpet in yet.”
Cruising east back into Blanco on RR 1623, Cox waved in response to another oncoming driver.
“Yes, there’s a bit of pride in driving a car that’s 50 years old,” he reflected. “It also refreshes my memory of childhood, of being in my late teens and 20s. I raced cars in my 20s, mostly VW mini stocks on tracks and roundy-rounds. I don’t race like that anymore, but it’s nice to know that I have the horsepower.”
“But, oh, man,” Cox sighed blissfully as he patted Blue’s black dashboard, ‘”when the AC’s blowing cold, and the radio’s blasting, and you’re cruising down the highway, there’s just nothing better!”
