I learned about the Truck-o-Pats from my friend Maureen. She attended the neighborhood St. Patrick’s Day parade two years ago and was very excited to discover there was a Truck-o-Pats. As was I. I couldn’t go last year, but this year the stars aligned. Here are pictures from the day.
Motorcycle cops, a whole line. I learned that the police that guide this march have double duty. In the morning, they work the Shamrock Run downtown, then head to Northeast for this parade. This way, the parade gets the police for free.
The arrival of the Truck-o-Pats. The vetting process to join was not difficult, Maureen asked around, we found the Pat in charge and I introduced myself.
Note my favorite detail on the truck: green chrysanthemums in the windshield wipers, which were then extended out and turned on so they waved.
Parade participants begin to assemble.
This truck had no sign, so I’m not sure who they were affiliated with.
The parade organizer rallies the parade participants. He has awesome pants.
The woman I suspect of being his wife also was nicely attired.
Some parade watchers.
The bagpipes are piping.
Footage is being captured.
Thus guy, who I’m a sure is not actually a zombie, stands in front of the Irish Wolfhounds.
The unidentified truck of kids watches the parade begin.
Here was a group of marchers. I’m also not sure what their affiliation was. They may have been festively dressed families.
And now the Truck-o-Pats is in the parade. This is the home of the parade’s organizer, who makes good use of his yard for advertising. He originally started this parade to lure his father-in-law over from Ireland for a visit.
Festive front porch parade viewing.
There was discussion if this priest was a dude dressed a priest, or an actual priest. Either way, he was quite tall.
This firefighter walked behind the Truck-o-Pats in the parade. He was ridiculously good looking in a way the camera did not capture.
Post parade, the Irish Mammies assemble for a photo.
And here I am in the Truck-o-Pats.
What a great parade. I plan to return next year. And possibly bring my Aunt Pat.
