Touching article from Autoweek
#1
08-01-2003, 09:32 AM
Touching article from Autoweek
There was an article in Autoweek by Dutch Mandel that I thought Ford-Truck readers would like. It will be pasted in here as soon as I can figure out how... tom
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A Story for Those Who Think of Cars as Commodities
FOR FRED DIEM NOTHING IN HIS world was more important than Ford. Nothing. As a toddler he'd climb into the cabs of his grandpa's Ford wreckers and play for hours. By age six, this inveterate tinkerer would fieldstrip and modify the neighbor kids' bikes, much to the dismay of their parents. As Freddie got bigger, so did his canvas, at 12 he was wrenching on cars, and he had the touch. No one knows from where his Ford passion came, but it burned hot. When Fred was asked to look at someone else's troublesome ride the first thing he'd ask was its make. Anything other than "Ford" would get his matter-of-fact "There's your problem... it's not a Ford" reply. In Fred's stable are four Ford trucks: a Ranger, an F-150, a Bronco II and an Explorer.
An average student, Fred loved to fight, and because of this he was put in a "bad boy" school-you know, a place for teenagers who dabble in controlled substances or uncontrolled behavior. His "sentence" was for a semester, but his teachers really liked Fred, and he liked them, and he didn't want to leave.
In his junior year Fred had no choice. That's when he noticed a sore throat that just wouldn't go away. Early on it was diagnosed as acid reflux but it turned out to be esophageal cancer. On Aug. 30, 2002, Fred learned the cancer had spread to his liver. Fred Diem died three months ago.
He was 17.
But Fred packed serious living into those last six months. The Make-A-Wish Foundation, an organization that grants wishes to children with life-threatening conditions, offered Fred a family trip to Disney World. That sounded good to Fred's Mom, Kristy, who desperately wanted, needed, a Florida vacation escape. Fred wanted his Explorer fixed. The truck won out, and a good thing, too, as there are no limits to the memories it created. Kristy works at OrthoIndy, also the place of business for one Dr. Terry Trammell, the orthopedic wunderdoc who casts magic on race drivers that meet cement walls with too much vigor. Though Tram had no fix for Fred, he knew Ford people who could make the young man's life brighter, which happened when Fred got invited to Ford World Headquarters. He took a tour of Ford's Dearborn Assembly Plant and got hot laps around a high-speed oval in an SVT Cobra and an SVT Lightning. Fred toured the Henry Ford Museum with its curator, and went through the SVT and Roush garage where the Ford GT supercar is bolted together. Fred was given posters and models and, to hear his mom tell it, the absolute time of his young life.
That trip sapped Fred of his waning energy, though not enough to do some- thing else to which he had been giving thought. Fred planned his own funeral.
See, Fred didn't want a hearse. He wanted a Ford monster truck to take him to the cemetery. As it happened, down the street from Fred's Plainfield, Indiana, home was a company that jacks up trucks for a living. When the boys at the garage heard about Fred, they came rumbling up to his front door for approval.
On the morning of the funeral a monster truck arrived decorated with Ford banners and the American flag to escort Fred. Draped over his casket was the Ford logo in flowers. A police escort with six or seven officers who volunteered their time led the procession.
You can almost guess what is written on Fred's tombstone, can't you?
"Ford Rules."
-dmandel@crain.com
Copyright Crain Communications with permission of author
=================
A Story for Those Who Think of Cars as Commodities
FOR FRED DIEM NOTHING IN HIS world was more important than Ford. Nothing. As a toddler he'd climb into the cabs of his grandpa's Ford wreckers and play for hours. By age six, this inveterate tinkerer would fieldstrip and modify the neighbor kids' bikes, much to the dismay of their parents. As Freddie got bigger, so did his canvas, at 12 he was wrenching on cars, and he had the touch. No one knows from where his Ford passion came, but it burned hot. When Fred was asked to look at someone else's troublesome ride the first thing he'd ask was its make. Anything other than "Ford" would get his matter-of-fact "There's your problem... it's not a Ford" reply. In Fred's stable are four Ford trucks: a Ranger, an F-150, a Bronco II and an Explorer.
An average student, Fred loved to fight, and because of this he was put in a "bad boy" school-you know, a place for teenagers who dabble in controlled substances or uncontrolled behavior. His "sentence" was for a semester, but his teachers really liked Fred, and he liked them, and he didn't want to leave.
In his junior year Fred had no choice. That's when he noticed a sore throat that just wouldn't go away. Early on it was diagnosed as acid reflux but it turned out to be esophageal cancer. On Aug. 30, 2002, Fred learned the cancer had spread to his liver. Fred Diem died three months ago.
He was 17.
But Fred packed serious living into those last six months. The Make-A-Wish Foundation, an organization that grants wishes to children with life-threatening conditions, offered Fred a family trip to Disney World. That sounded good to Fred's Mom, Kristy, who desperately wanted, needed, a Florida vacation escape. Fred wanted his Explorer fixed. The truck won out, and a good thing, too, as there are no limits to the memories it created. Kristy works at OrthoIndy, also the place of business for one Dr. Terry Trammell, the orthopedic wunderdoc who casts magic on race drivers that meet cement walls with too much vigor. Though Tram had no fix for Fred, he knew Ford people who could make the young man's life brighter, which happened when Fred got invited to Ford World Headquarters. He took a tour of Ford's Dearborn Assembly Plant and got hot laps around a high-speed oval in an SVT Cobra and an SVT Lightning. Fred toured the Henry Ford Museum with its curator, and went through the SVT and Roush garage where the Ford GT supercar is bolted together. Fred was given posters and models and, to hear his mom tell it, the absolute time of his young life.
That trip sapped Fred of his waning energy, though not enough to do some- thing else to which he had been giving thought. Fred planned his own funeral.
See, Fred didn't want a hearse. He wanted a Ford monster truck to take him to the cemetery. As it happened, down the street from Fred's Plainfield, Indiana, home was a company that jacks up trucks for a living. When the boys at the garage heard about Fred, they came rumbling up to his front door for approval.
On the morning of the funeral a monster truck arrived decorated with Ford banners and the American flag to escort Fred. Draped over his casket was the Ford logo in flowers. A police escort with six or seven officers who volunteered their time led the procession.
You can almost guess what is written on Fred's tombstone, can't you?
"Ford Rules."
-dmandel@crain.com
Copyright Crain Communications with permission of author
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