This lively memoir details Fred Haefele’s experiences with pickup trucks in each phase of his life. Uniquely free spirited, The Essential Book of Pickup Trucks is equal parts love story, blue-collar writer’s tale, and motor-head memoir.
The Essential Book of Pickup trucks follows Fred’s cyclical odyssey- tracking his love for trucks, writing, and the allure of the West. Brief, humorous, and self-deprecating, the book had an easy-going, no-frills quality that easily emerges you in the journey.
Fred Haefele’s "The Essential Book of Pickup Trucks" is less a mechanical treatise and more a lyrical, introspective memoir, one that uses twelve trucks as mile markers in a life full of hard work, reinvention, and quiet revelation. Part love letter to American motor culture, part meditation on masculinity and purpose, this book surprises with its depth and dry wit.
Haefele, a former arborist, teacher, and self-proclaimed “blue-collar intellectual,”chronicles his five-decade relationship with pickups, from his youth near Flint’s GM plants to rugged Montana backroads. Each truck becomes a character: a faithful companion through career shifts, family trials, and existential questioning. His prose shines when detailing the tactile joys of manual labor (chainsaws, climbing gear, and yes, oil changes) or the absurdity of straddling blue-collar grit and academic ambition.
While the title may mislead gearheads expecting specs and models, the book’s real engine is Haefele’s reflective voice. His musings on fatherhood, failing marriages, and the myth of the “American work ethic” resonate. It's definitely a Baby-Boomer-era memoir (anyone younger might feel some rage at how people used to be able to pay bills and craft the lives they wanted at the same time), but it's highly readable just the same.
Verdict: A 4-star ride for memoir lovers and Americana buffs. Think Educated meets Shop Class as Soulcraft, with a dusting of motor oil. Not for those seeking a Consumer Reports of trucks, but perfect for readers who’ve ever pondered life’s journey--with or without four-wheel drive.
I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
This is really a memoir of a guy who started out as a child of Christian Scientists, got interested in tree work (trimming same, arborist stuff), and eventually into writing, including a stint, in the late 1970s, at the University of Montana’s writing program. And later, a teaching job at Stanford's writing program. He & his wife liked that, but left to go back to Montana in 1992. Now they face the usual problems of aging Boomers, Like me & my wife. Along the way, a number of hard-used pickups for work trucks. Ending up with a 2006 Toyota, which he says will be his last truck.
Anyway. The WSJ gave the book a nice writeup: https://www.wsj.com/arts-culture/book... (Paywalled. As always, I'm happy to email a copy to non-subscribers) I'm looking forward to reading this one.
You don't even have to like pickup trucks to be drawn to Fred's memoir in his distinctive voice--funny, self-deprecatory, reflective, and direct. Maybe it's because I know Fred that I hear him throughout. There he is calling down from high up in an elm tree in my former home in Missoula--pruning the limbs with editorial precision (as I mentioned when he appeared in my book). Every sentence shows attentiveness, every page, and chapter. The whole is more than the sum of its parts. Arborist meets brilliant writer. Just as Fred always sought to honor the shape, spirit, and movement of a tree in his arborist days, so he does with his memoir, which is definitely a love story. And all good love stories do not shy away from the pain that also comes with exposing your heart.
I read this all in one sitting two nights ago. I loved it because of how beautifully Haefele describes bad decisions, kind people, odd people, trucks, and cutting trees. To me, this book was a lot like Barbarian Days and just as good, if not better because I sensed that Haefele is just a bit more honest. They are also similar because they are both stories about men who chose to do something that most people can’t do or are too afraid to do and then used that fixation or occupation as a way to organize a memoir. I enjoyed every page of this book and while I wish Haefele had shared a few more pages of stories about the crazed drug dealer tree cutter, I was glad he got out of there.
Fred Haefele transforms the pickup truck from a mere machine into a vessel of memory, identity, and culture. His memoir is both rugged and tender, tracing how these vehicles carried him through work, family, and self-discovery. It’s a love letter not just to trucks, but to the complicated, restless spirit of America itself.
A heartfelt and nostalgic memoir. This isn’t just about trucks it’s about family, work, identity, and the stories we attach to the vehicles that carry us through life. Even if you’re not a “truck person,” this promises to be an engaging and uniquely American journey.
It’s a memoir which tries to make metaphors of a series of trucks the author owned. That works about as you’d expect. He’s a good writer, but there’s a lot better books to spend your reading time on than this. Sorry.