For as long as I can remember my Grandpa Lyle has parked his truck under this tree in their front yard.  As  a kid I remember looking for grandpa's truck as we drove past their house to our own house.  If it was there, it meant that we could go help out with the chores and know that we would get rewarded with some sort of truth-stretching story from my grandpa and an ice cream treat from grandma's freezer.  I loved listening to his "tales" from his childhood, and it took until I was about 8 or 9 for me to realize that most of his stories had very little, if any, actual truth to them.  But they were fun to listen to.