I had the joy of taking my kids around Cadbury World last weekend. It seemed to be the perfect option for a cold and wet weekend trip. We had planned to go for a while, but when the weather set in, the trip suddenly became a highlight of the week.
It was everything you would expect a family weekend trip to be, plus a lot of chocolate. We had the silence in the car as the kids played with their phones, we had my wife’s awful choice of music, followed pretty quickly by my amazing taste. We had the rain lashing down and forcing us to run from the car park to the queue at the ticket office. We even had the friendly mascot waving in our faces.
Yet, as we walked around looking at all thing’s chocolate, my eyes were drawn to something slightly less cocoa-based. Sat in the corner of one of the halls was something which wasn’t meant to be the best bit of my trip. I guess that it was just there to keep it warm and out of the rain. I’m also guessing that not many other people realised what it was sat by itself.
We’d walked into the hall and I’d immediately clocked. The 1930’ Ford Model A delivery truck. Wonderfully painted up in Cadbury purple and with a gold trim. The truck was stunning. You could see the hours which had gone in to repair and renovate it back to its full glory. The engine cover was ajar and the might of the one of the original Ford Engines was sat on display.
This truck is special to me in so many ways. I remember being a kid myself and having a model of it to lay with. It represented joy and fun and most importantly, it represented all things chocolate. I’m now where near old enough to remember it on the road, but I do remember the way my own Granddad would talk to me about the Cadbury truck. How they would have to wait for the weekly delivery and hope that they could beg enough money from their father to buy a bar.
The truck itself is in incredible condition. You really can see the hours someone has spent on every single panel to make them absolutely perfect. The side panels themselves are huge and would show even the tiniest of marks.
As I walked over to admire the truck, I really got absorbed by the small details. The headlamp bar, which differentiates it from the later models. The horn sat nestled against the front wing. Even the bolts securing the front bumper on are pristine.
Walking away from the truck, I could hear my Granddad’s voice, giving me one of his tall tales of childhood. It really was an unexpected find. I had kind of assumed they would all have been scrapped with modernisation taking over.
Thankfully, this little piece of history managed to survive.