By the time the sun crept up over Glendale, Arizona, on November 15th, the parking lots around State Farm Stadium were already buzzing. Not with the usual game-day tailgaters, but with thousands of GM truck fanatics—men and women who speak fluent “small block” and believe that proper stance is as essential as proper steering. Dino’s Git Down, the undisputed heavyweight champion of GM truck gatherings, had returned for another year of steel, horsepower, and good old-fashioned trucker banter.
What started as a backyard get-together has evolved into an all-out pilgrimage, with builds rolling in from every dusty corner of the country. No registration, no judging—just an open invite to show up, park, and shoot the breeze with fellow C10 disciples and square-body loyalists. By Friday afternoon, the lot looked like a GM factory time-warp, with flawless ’67 C10s rubbing elbows with LS-swapped K5 Blazers and airbagged OBS trucks laying frame like they had something to prove.
Every build had a story, and most owners were happy to tell it—especially if you stuck around long enough to hear about “the time it left me stranded in the middle of nowhere” or how their significant other has been “just about done” with this project for years.
One of the head-turners this year was a patina’d ’72 C10 with an unapologetic twin-turbo LS setup that looked more at home on a dragstrip than a parking lot. The owner, a guy who clearly favored function over form, grinned when someone asked what kind of power it made. “Enough to make bad decisions,” he said, before firing it up and making everyone’s pant legs flutter.
Vendors lined the venue, hawking everything from billet door handles to full chassis swaps. If you needed an obscure part, a fresh set of coilovers, or just a T-shirt that declared your undying love for square-body Chevys, this was the place. Classic Performance Products (CPP) and Switch Suspension—two of the event’s biggest sponsors—drew crowds with their latest performance goodies, proving that while nostalgia is great, modern engineering makes it even better.
Of course, no gathering of this caliber is complete without solid food and questionable decisions. The taco trucks delivered, the beer flowed, and by sunset, the whole scene felt like a well-oiled machine—loud, unpredictable, and powered by gasoline and caffeine.
As the last trucks rumbled out of the lot on Saturday night, the consensus was clear: Dino’s Git Down wasn’t just a truck show—it was a reminder of why we love these rolling pieces of history. No trophies, no drama, just a bunch of people who know that happiness sometimes comes with a bed, four wheels, and a fuel bill that makes accountants cry.
If you missed it, well, start planning for next year. And maybe start on that truck you’ve been meaning to finish—because nothing stings worse than showing up in the wrong kind of ride.
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