M1938-1940-Model-T story

Introduction to the Model-T

Near the end of our freshman year my buddy Virgil "Doc" Hughes told me Fritz Reasoner, a graduating senior, wanted to sell the car he'd been driving to and from their farm while going to high school. Doc's older brother Oran said it was a good buy for someone with enough money to buy it. Doc said he'd like to buy it but didn’t have enough money and would rather go partners with me if I was interested.

I was making “good money” and Doc knew I usually always had an extra quarter if Doc needed a loan. I thought, a cars a lot of money, I could count on about $2.40 a week steady income. There was $1.65 a week as janitor of the Farmers National Bank, 50 cents for cleaning five spittoons twice a week, plus 25 cents for cleaning the washroom at the Reserve Bldg & Loan Association. Odd jobs produced income at the rate of 10 cents an hour but I couldn't count on that. I'd come up in the world since the first steady job of 2 cents for each egg case I'd nail together but working full out for a 12 hour day didn't bring in much. I had few personal expenses other than going to a movie plus popcorn. I'd saved and paid cash for my bicycle and tires. Future expenses as paying a girl’s way to a movie hadn't registered yet.

I asked "what kinda car is it, is it any good; how much does he want for it?"

Doc and I become grade school chums when playing in the high school band. Oran played trombone, Doc clarinet, and I trumpet. Bill Murphy, Oran Hughes, Doc Hughes, and I sang in the boys quartet. Oran and Doc didn't go out for sports, but Bill and I played football, basketball and track together. Doc and I shared curiosities in common and he could tell I was interested, he said "common, Oran told me where it is."

Our 2^nd Model-T was similar to this 1927 model when new. It lacked some engine parts and uncle Lee sold it to us as is for $7.50

It was lunch period & Fritz was there in case his putting out the word drew any would be buyers.

It was a Model-T. The body had been removed and a pickup like flat wood bed with sides put in it's place. It was handy for hauling tools-n-things about a farm. There was no top but it had a windshield and front fenders, the back fenders were removed to make room for the flat bed. There were mud splatters on the front fenders from the rear wheels. It was a typical improvisation of the time. A common saying was that all you needed to fix a Model-T was bailing wire and a pair of pliers, we were to learn if that was true.

We asked "how does it run?" "Oh fine, I' been drivin it to school every day, wont be needin it now that I'm graduatin." We could speak perfectly good English but without being aware, found ourselves imitating the way we'd heard old timers speak negotiatin a horse trade. We said "how much ya want fer it?" Fritz lifted his hat and passed his hand over his head and said, "well, I'd been hopin to get more, but I been askin $5.00."

The impact of the depression and dust storm years affected prices, wages and the way we thought. Wages and prices were relative, when I'd been making those egg cases you could buy a dozen eggs for 9 cents, while they'd been standing in bread line in the big cities. That was a lot of hours hoeing weeds at 10 cents an hour. Two summers before I'd worked all day filling water barrels at the sale barn for 50 cent, till I talked Fred Slake into giving me a raise, but that was a short time job.

I don't know what was going through Doc's mind at the time. On the one hand it seemed like a lot of money, but for a car! Gosh, could I afford a car! The bicycle had cost more but it was new and you didn't have to buy gas. I did some more quick price comparing. Hair cuts were 25 cents, a "plate lunch" 25 cents and gasoline was now up to 18 cents a gallon from 13 cents; but then I'd never had to buy any before. Hm, a gallon of gas was worth four candy bars or four bottles of pop. We refrained from showing any enthusiasm. The expression "look before you leap" came to mind; but darn, I didn't know what to look for and knew Doc didn't know either.

Fritz was a good and honest fellow, we knew we could trust him to be truthful and fair. I asked "is there anything we'd need ta fix before drivin it somewhere.....if we bought it?" Fritz rubbed his chin and said "naw not really, you'd probably need to tighten up the rods before too long, but there's no problem for a while."

I was standing at the back at the time, by the tail gate, the rod holding it in place was a bit loose. I'd tightened such tail gate rods for farmers at the grain elevator. I said "aw Doc, that's not too bad, I can fix that if need be." I noticed Fritz give me a lifted eyebrow look, but he said nothing. I don't believe he had any doubts that we could tighten the rods, it was just the "nothin to it" response that surprised him. His surprise was nothing compared with ours when we found that rods he referred to were inside the engine and you had to take the pan off and go to a lot of trouble and care to fix them. My gosh, the experiences we were embarking on without knowing it!

He said "go ahead, take a spin, try it out." He could tell we were wanting to try it. We did, I drove first. I'd been driving Earl Sproul's Chevy hauling 100 lb cans of buttermilk from his creamery in a trailer to slop hogs. Backing a trailer had taken some learning. Doc motioned for me to take the wheel! Whow, we chattered with excitement as we wheeled about the block. Sproul's car was a 1935 Chevy – this thing was primitive. Fritz had explained about what pedals to push and the lever to throw forward after you got up to speed. I pulled the lever back to take it out of gear and pushed on the brake pedal. It was idling fast but came to a halt. It was Doc's turn to drive back. Fritz had said for an emergency stop to use the middle pedal which was reverse.

We'd noticed a thump thump.... There was a bulge in the left rear tire. The tread had worn through and a piece of old tire placed inside to make a "boot" patch. We wondered how much a tire would cost? We looked, they were 4.50 X 21 tires, the other three were good. We decided we could just drive it till it blew out, we could always get home on the rim. That was the good fortune of dirt roads.

Our energetic excitement revealed we'd decided to buy it, we returned & told Fritz. "We'll buy it. We'll bring you the money when we come to school in the morning." We all smiled and shook hands. Fritz said "OK, fellas the cars yours, I can catch a ride home tonight." We'd all grown up to live by the code, "a persons word is as good as their bond" and that our hand shake had clinched the deal.

It seemed forever before school let out. We jumped in "our" car and took off on a country road pulling the spark and throttle handles all the way down, just like loosening the reins and letting a horse run full out. About four miles out the tire blew! That patch hadn't been made for full speed. Spirits were soaring as we came home on the rim. We wondered how fast we'd been going, gol..lyee, it had seemed licity split! We couldn't afford to buy a tire and also pay for the car. Necessity was becoming the mother of invention, a process only beginning; there had to be a way to fix a hole in a tire, even a big hole, without having to buy a new tire.

We parked our "jitney" in my folks back yard, I don't recall why my backyard except that we had room to work on it...if need be, next to the old Rabbit Pens. It was a remarkable partnership, there was never a single quarrel; we were consumed with excitement and diligence on how to keep it running.

Our enthusiasm was dented when my Dad asked "does it have a license?" Doc and I looked at each other and said "We don't know" and ran off to have a look. It didn't. Dad said, well it's OK to keep the car here but your not to drive it without a license.

The next day we paid Fritz first thing, then hurried to the court house to see about getting a license. Whow, the license would cost $4.00! Why that was almost as much as the car! They also said we'd need to read and give them the serial number on the block. We groaned about how we were going to come up with the four bucks while finding out where the serial number was stamped on the engine block. Whata ya know, the darn serial number had been gouged off! Our "bargain buy" had a few problems. We went back to Fritz to see if he had any records. He said he'd also discovered the serial number had been defaced, they'd bought it used at a farm sale, as is. Rebuilt Flivers used about a farm were often not licensed, being thought of as a home made get-a-bouts.

We soon found Dad was insistent, it was to be licensed because we were going to be driving it about town and on the highway. He agreed we probably wouldn't be stopped but that was not the point, we knew it was to be licensed, therefore it was to be done.

I didn't realize it at the time but his attitude rubbed off on me, this issue was understandable and a turning point, I never debated within myself after that if I knew something should be done.

We were in a dilemma. The engine was good, at least it ran, but we needed a number to get a license. We went to the junkyard & got a number from an old engine. I don't even remember in who's name we registered the car in, it really didn't make any difference to us.

Our bargain included an antique jack, long since lost, and a segment of home made hand forged log chain still in my work bench drawer.

We soon figured it was a 1925 model. It had probably been stolen during the depression/dust storm years by some poor sole broke, trying to transport and feed family en-route to Calif. There were many desperate people migrating in those years.

It was our great fortune to experience the twilight years of the Model-T. The lessons learned during the ensuing summer and following school year were invaluable, having a great effect on my life's pathway.

At that time no one would have dreamed that Germany would invade Poland the following year, that our nation would be at war in three years, or that in six years I'd be a Squadron Engineering officer for (15) B-29's on Guam, probably as a direct result of our buying that Model-T. The B-29 was not even a dream then even by the people that built airplanes, things were moving fast. Trouble shooting those big complex birds was founded on how to fix the Model-T. The principles were the same. City kids were generally not exposed to this kind of on-the-job training.

Learning About Model-T's

Model-T #2 in Retirement 1943

This was the last I saw of it, Mother had it hauled away as junk during WW II. I was devastated as I had great plans on making a museum piece out of her – I’d become attached.

1927 Model-T (with radio); last before Model-A

“She” was painted Red(mid)-White(top)-Blue(bot). Note the large “truck” tires in back. A standard tire with bead removed inside a “blown-out” truck tire. It readily carried a heavy load, and the larger diameter gave extra “speed”. Normally full speed was about 40 mph, we could almost reach 50. There was a radio with speaker in the ceiling. Probably the only Model-T in the county with a radio. The starter worked but was often cranked as we couldn’t afford a battery that would keep a charge overnight.

Doc Hughes and I were engrossed the entire summer with our Model-T's. Doc took the old one and I bought a second one so could each have one.

It was our great fortune to have experienced the twilight years of the "Tin Lizzy". The Model-T series began in 1908 and ended with the 1927 model.

My "Fliver" was relatively modern. It had electric headlights in lieu of kerosene lamps, the door on the drivers side opened instead of being an integral part of the body, it had 4.50x21 inch "balloon" tires vs 3.25x21 inch prior size and was equipped with a battery in addition to a magneto and hand crank. What was now Doc’s car did not have an electric starter, but our second car, mine did – It didn't really matter because all came equipped with a primary starter called a Crank. Some one had added a Ruxal brand transmission to the first car which was almost my undoing.

Model-T's were equipped with small anemic manually operated brakes on the rear wheels. However, few kept them in repair. People depended on the brake pedal under the steering column which clamped a brake band on the engines output drive. A section of the drive shaft between the engine and rear axle had been removed to make room for the Ruxal transmission. If the transmission came out of gear, which it had a habit of doing, there was no way to apply brakes, or use the engine as a brake, you simply free wheeled at the mercy of the cars momentum and the hill you were on. Ruxal was not to blame because the rear wheels had originally been equipped with brakes, it wasn't their fault no one maintained them.

The home town main street climbs a steep hill when leaving "down town" headed north. The Ruxal came out of gear at the brink of that hill on my way south, I was free wheeling to downtown, gathering speed!

I tried frantically to reengage the transmission while the car was moving. The gears could not be forced when the drive shaft and engine speed didn't match. The pull of gravity felt like I was being pushed. It was a stomach churning sensation. I didn't dare jump out as it would hit something or someone. I was afraid to stay for fear it would. It didn't even have a horn!

It was a wild descent into town barely missing cars and terminated in a desperate skidding two wheeled turn onto a side street. Thankfully the street was clear of cars and I could force the front wheels hard along the edge of the curb decelerating to a halt.

From then on that transmission only had one speed. It was fixed in place with bailing wire.

Doc and I knew nothing about cars when we bought our first one. Fritz had shown us how to start the car. There was a spark lever on the left and a gas lever on the right side of the steering column. Up retarded and down advanced the spark. Up cut off and down increased gas. Thus we had a "Hand Feed" and a "Foot Feed". We were still too close to horsepower to call it a Throttle.

A long lever extended up from the floor on the left side of the drivers seat. Upright was Neutral (the drive shaft was disconnected), back applied the rear wheel brakes (which were rarely maintained), and forward engaged engine to drive shaft.

To start, the spark lever was lifted full up to "retarded", the gas lever lifted up but cracked open and the ignition turned to "Bat" if there was a battery or to "Mag" if one had to use the magneto. One then went in front of the car between the bumper and radiator, grabbed the crank, shoved IN to engage crank to engine and pulled up in a clockwise motion to "turn over" the engine. With the left hand one pulled on a piece of bailing wire, not a Ford part, connected to the carburetor choke on the left side of the engine. If two people were present the engine was turned over with choke out and ignition off before turning the ignition on and a crank to start.

When cranking it was important to keep the thumb and fingers on the same side of the crank handle and make sure the spark was retarded. The engine was unforgiving and could & would "kick like a mule" with an advanced spark. It could almost break a mans thumb and arm if the grip on the crank handle was not free to slip loose. Even a half hearted kick was enough to cause you to always remember your thumb.

One could hear the unique buzzing tone of each ignition coil in it's turn when the engine was turned and primed with choke pulled out. Then with choke in and a quick yank the car came to life. It could be heard for blocks and Vibrated all over, you knew it was a living thing because it wiggled. Mufflers, balanced engines and rubber engine mounts were still in the future. The fatigue of cranking the inert heap would vanish as the Fliver shook and bounced causing one to hustle from the front around to cut back on the gas by reaching for the hand feed.

If one had to start on the magneto it sometimes helped to jack up a rear wheel. This served as a flywheel which helped the man cranking build up speed and thus generate enough spark.

Voltage was generated by a ring of V magnets bolted to a flywheel between the pistons and transmission. The magneto coil screwed into the top of the flywheel housing. As the engine turned the magnets passed field pieces inducing an electric current. This current was sent to the ignition system via the ignition switch. The weight of the magnets increased the peripheral mass of the flywheel plate and smoothed crankshaft torque between firing of pistons.

We often started our cars by pushing, particularly if you'd been out on a date and didn't want to awaken the neighborhood. The one on the drivers side kept one hand on the steering wheel as he pushed. After a bit of momentum was achieved the long lever was thrown forward from neutral to engaged “ingear”. This caused the engine to rotate and as it fired it helped accelerate the car. One made a running jump onto the "running board", into the drivers seat and away. The step to get in thus became known as the running board.

Our second car had a starter. The starter switch was located on the floor by the seat. One pushed it down with the heel of the left foot and operated the internal choke at the same time if necessary.

The choke and mixture control were on the lower right hand side of the dash because the carburetor was on the right side and the control was a 1/4" rod, a straight shot from inside to the carburetor. This was "inconvenient" as you had to reach across in front of your girl friends knees to start the car. You pulled to choke and turned the choke shaft to adjust mixture, the Model-T was a model of simplicity. The downward input stroke of the piston sucked in fuel and air, you "choked" off some of the air to suck in more gas when starting a cold engine. A needle valve in the carburetor metered the flow of gas, this needle was turned by the choke shaft. The choke blocked air flow the same way the damper on the stove blocked off flow up the chimney. Choking off air was quite descriptive of the process, just like feeding fuel to generate horsepower. “Damping” a stove by cutting off air to a fire, reducing heat – as if dumping something wet on a fire.

Part of the rudimentary instructions were how to make it go after it was started by cranking. There were three cast iron pedals with diamond faces which protruded up from the floor boards below the steering column. The center one was slightly forward of the other two. The left was Low gear, center Reverse and the right Brake. For a panic stop one slammed both feet down on all three pedals killing the engine in the process.

Full speed was with spark advanced and gas wide open. For an old car with a cold engine full speed was 35 to 40 mph. One could hit 50 with a hot engine, after the pistons fit tighter and the gas/air mixed better. Our second "Jitney" could hold 50 if tuned and given a chance to peak out.

To kids in an open car on rough dirt roads this seemed like we were really moving, with open windshield you felt you were flying! The car rode as rough as the road. It had heavy springs, stiff tires and hard seats, there were no shock absorbers.

The windshield was mounted so its angle could be adjusted. It was supported on each side by posts with a pivot in the middle. You could rotate the windshield from vertical to horizontal.

The windshield wiper always worked provided the driver of passenger wiggled it. A single bent rod pivoted at the top of the windshield connected the wiper on the front side with an operators handle on the back side. The wiper was reliable provided the driver could sustain it's sweeping motion while driving. It was a bit like rubbing your stomach and patting your head. Ruts in a muddy road could grab control of the wheels, the driver really preferred having both hands on the wheel.

Poor roads and absence of snow moving equipment made it mandatory to have large diameter wheels to keep the body from dragging in the mud or snow. Roads were often more primitive than the car. Thus the Model-T retained the looks of a horseless buggy.

Roads were often wagon trails graded free of rocks and chuck holes. A ride carried one up hill and down with the lay of the land, highways with cuts and fills were sparsely implemented. The resultant Roller Coaster effect could be a thrill by dropping suddenly from a high ridge to a narrow creek bridge below, especially if in a Model-T with a Truck Load of wheat.

It was always necessary to plan ahead to assure enough speed to climb a hill. One tried to have full speed when starting up, you succumbed to the urge to lean forward, lending moral support to the cars loosing battle against gravity. Finally one pushed down on the low pedal (which changed gear ratios) and crept up the remainder of the hill resigned to a turtles pace. There was ample power provided the low band was good.

When the pedals on the floor were pushed down they clamped steel bands, faced with cotton belt material, against drums in the transmission. When held stationary the right peddle would stop the drive shaft; the left peddle cause the drive shaft to turn at low but powerful speed forward; and the center peddle cause the drive shaft to turn at a low powerful speed backwards. Post WWII automatic transmissions worked much the same except that the clamping was done automatically. The transmission had a set of planetary gears which resulted in forward or reverse rotation at increased mechanical advantage depending on which element was held stationary. Thus if the low band was worn out, it was the most used and often was, a driver would simply turn the car around and back up a hill, using the still good reverse band.

After much frustration with bands wearing out, mostly due to our youthful hot rod tendencies, and the quick to wear attribute of cotton belting, we converted to the use of Model-A brake bands with copper and asbestos interwoven in the webbing. This greatly improved band grabbing power and durability. We were well aware but not particularly concerned that we were contaminating the engine oil, something that Ford could not condone. Old timers couldn't figure out how we achieved such pulling and braking power, in spite of how we drove them. We delighted in their curiosity and obtuse dialogue to find out what we'd done.

Tires were our biggest problem till we found ways to solve it. Buying new or good fires was out of the question, these were depression times & we couldn't afford it.

When we had a flat, which originally was often we simply jacked up the car, disassembled the tire and tube from the rim, repaired the tube, reassembled and inflated the tire with a hand pump. Inflating tires by hand is a sure way to eliminate a spare tire about your middle!

The tire, tube, rim assembly was different then. A tube was placed in a tire and a liner placed over the tube to protect it from the rim. The circular rim was cut through in one place. This joint was spread and one end of the rim started on the tire. The remainder was then worked on till the joint could be rebutted together and locked. This required strap shaped "tire irons" and a sledge to force and drive it in place. The assembly was then inflated and tested for leaks by placing it in a tank of water. Our tubes were adorned with cold patches, vulcanized patching came later. The rims included mounting lugs that looked like heavy duty washers. These "washers" fit over studs on the wheel rim. The Model-A came equipped with spoke wheels, drop center rims and tires with better but still "natural" rubber. Tough synthetic rubber was not till WWII and it was initially reserved for military.

Model-T wheels had wooden spokes. The fit between the spokes and the metal wheel rim was loose on our cars. Quite audible creaking sounds were emitted when coasting to a halt with engine off. Sometimes we'd soak the wheels to quiet them, but they'd soon dry out; we thought of soaking them with oil but never tried it.

We were always on the search for "better" tires. We could find lots of discarded tires with a blown out casing but good tread. Our first patches, similar to one on the first car we bought, kept pouching out.

One solution was to find a "good" blown out tire and then make a "boot" patch for the inside with a piece of another tire by removing the bead and thick tread rubber. We'd then bolt the patch in place using round headed "carriage" bolts with the smooth head inside. The stud, washer and nut poked out where anyone could see. This worked very well but it was very hard work cutting the bolt holes, cutting off the bead and pealing off the tread rubber.

It was fun watching those indigenous to the area study our patched tires. They would see something odd about the tires and walk over to take a look. Their expression would change from puzzlement to a slow grin. They'd stand back, motion for a friend to come have a look and grin from ear to ear as he watched his friend unravel the puzzle. They'd laugh and shake their heads as they walked away, we never let them know we were watching. We never experienced any problem with the wheels being out of balance but the roads were so rough we probably would have been able to distinguish the difference.

We solved our rear tire problems by using 5.25x21 truck tires for the outer casing and placing beadless 4.25x21 tires on the inside with the bad spots diametrically opposite. These were used on the back to provide more speed, momentum and load capacity. They cost us nothing, never wore out and rarely went flat.

We were intensely curious about what was inside the engine. We decided to overhaul it. We took it apart in my folks backyard. Curiosity, self instruction and the need to improvise banished fatigue and any other interests.

Model-T's didn't have a water pump. Water went from the bottom of the radiator to the bottom of the engine through a hose. The heated water flowed upward from the top of the engine via a hose to the top of the radiator where it would be cooled and settle to complete the cycle.

Henry didn't equip Model-T's with fuel pumps either. The gas tank was forward of the dash, above and behind the engine. Fuel flowed by gravity to the carburetor. (Early models had the gas tank under the seat with resultant problems of sucking gas to the carburetor.) Any handy stick was used as a dip stick gas gage. While driving one could open the windshield, reach out, remove the gas cap and poke a stick in the gas tank. Henry became fancy with the Model-A. He put a sight gage on the tank which could be read from the inside by the driver.

The engine had four cylinders with valves and associated camshaft on the right side of the block. The crankshaft turned the camshaft that lifted the valves, almost identical to later engines.

Ignition was controlled by a timer. The camshaft turned a roller which was spring loaded against the inside rim of a metal cup over the front end of the cam shaft. The cup had four insulated conductor segments on its inside face which connected via wires to the four ignition coils. The roller "timed" the turning ON of each coil by grounding each segment in its cyclical turn.

The spark lever on the left of the steering column connected via a simple link to the timer cup on the right side. Rotation of the lever would rotate the cup and thus advanced or retarded the spark; ie, ignition timing.

When grounded by the timer a coil buzzed revealing the ignition was ON. The coils points were spring loaded closed & passed current to the coils electromagnet which in turn pulled the points apart, the points would spring back to again conduct current. This oscillatory chatter created a buzz sound which was unique to each coil, giving each coil a personality. By transformer action this primary on/off current induced very high voltage secondary spark carried to the plugs. It had to be high voltage to jump the plugs gap and ignite the fuel mixture.

I learned about high voltage the hard way. I'd been shown how to test to see if spark was going to a plug by touching a screw driver to a wire and watch the spark leap to the engine. I grabbed a screw driver and ZAP! Every muscle and nerve in my body involuntarily jerked. My eyeballs bulged, the yell froze half in and half out and the screw driver sailed high and far back over my head. Later I couldn't deliberately throw it that far - but never again did I use a screwdriver with metal all the way through the handle for testing electricity. I still have that screw driver which was part of a Model-A tool kit with wooden handle and metal all the way through so it could be struck with a hammer. Wood was used for insulation as plastic was unknown in those days.

The timer rarely caused trouble but the coils did. The coils were housed in wooden boxes about half the size of a cigar box. We carried spares and a small file to smooth the points. The electro-magnet core was simply a bundle of straight soft iron wires. The transformer windings were actually layers of tin foil and wax paper wrapped around and around the core. Our coils had been alternately rained on and heated so that the boxes were warped and some of the foil layers shorted. The terms "car tune up" or TV "tune in" had their genesis in audibly tuning coils.

An oil pump was another of Henry's omissions. Always improvising he used the V flywheel magnets as oil buckets or slingers. Oil thrown from these magnets was caught in a funnel and carried by gravity in a tube to the front of the engine. The oil flowed back along the bottom of the engine pan to the flywheel housing that held most of the oil supply. The connecting rods dipped into the "pan of oil", thus the name "oil pan", and oiled themselves and the piston walls by flinging oil each time they dipped.

Connecting rods were the Model-T's Achilles heel. They'd pound them selves loose and sometimes out through the engine wall. Some blamed it on not having an oil pump. It was a problem of kinematics and where to apply the oil rather than a need for pressure. Later model cars solved the problem by use of larger crankshaft journals, shorter piston strokes, balancing crankshaft forces, applying oil to the journals center, etc. By 1933 rods were rarely a problem. Lubrication of crankshaft rod and main bearings is by hydrodynamic lubrication, a natural phenomenon first discovered on rail road box cars, the journal bearing "skies" on the rotating shaft, riding on a film of oil and not on the metal.

Model-T rod bearing material was cast "babbitt". Rods were "tightened" by filing or shimming the gap between the grasping halves until they "fit" snug on the crankshaft. Unfortunately our old Model-T crankshaft journals were no longer round, a refitting didn't last long. One became skilled at dropping the pan and tightening rods.

One Sunday afternoon in the dead of winter my cousin Warren Kump and I went for a ride in the country. After bucking our way through heavy snow drifts a rod began to hammer - dangerously - it could go through the block. Warren handed tools as I laid in the snow, removed the pan and checked the bearing. The babbitt was hammered out of shape. We were a long way from home, it was cold and would soon be dark.

I warmed my hands against the engine block, cut off a piece of my belt, made a leather bearing, fitted it and replaced the pan. It ran adequately well and we drove home following the lengthening shadows of a setting sun. "She" got us home again, all Model-T's were she or her, never him.

The pistons and cylinders fit badly. We couldn't afford to have them rebored. Valves we could grind by placing compound between the valve and seat and oscillating the valve via a suction cup on a stick. We fitted the pistons by expanding the rings. We cleaned the carbon from piston ring grooves so oil could get to the rings through holes in the pistons. We then placed cork under the rings to expand them against the walls. It worked quite well. Metal spring ring expanders came later.

The radiators always dripped water so we carried a spare can. Winter temperatures could dip to 20 below so we always drained the radiators at night. People with good cars and good radiators used alcohol antifreeze. Ethylene glycol was very expensive.

My method of starting the car on a cold winter morning was to pour a bucket of hot water into the radiator. Then with a choke cycle and a good yank it would fire and soon be purring like a kitten. It was fun to go about the neighborhood pushing other people in their fancy cars to get them started.

Our second car was a 1927 two door sedan. The engine had been stripped and the tires had been removed. The rest was in good shape and well worth the money. My Uncle Lee Kump, with the local Ford garage, sold it to us for $7.00. This began our search for parts to rebuild the engine.

Rube Pearson the local junk car dealer had lots of old Model-T parts. Most of doubtful quality. We'd go rummage until we found something that would work and then dicker with him over the price. He knew we didn't have much money and it got to be quite a game going through our pockets hunting for enough dimes and nickels among our nuts and bolts to make him a face saving offer so he could "Sell" us the parts. He was a real friend although he played the role of a hard business man. Shortly thereafter he sold out and moved away. Several years later I met him on a trip back home. When Rube saw me his eyes lit up and we had a good visit about those two kids and their Model-T's. I thanked him for his generosity and help, we had a good laugh over our pricing negotiations. I could tell he felt a sense of personal satisfaction that I'd gone into the field of mechanical engineering.

The cheapest car we bought was for $2.50. It had broken down and the five high school kids that owned it couldn't get it to run. Doc & I saw they were having trouble so we stopped to give them a hand. They were exasperated and in the mood to get rid of it but wanted to save their investment in "good" tires.

Doc and I looked it over and figured we could get it to run although the owners had been trying all morning. The owners gladly parted with it for 50 cents each, in cash, and felt they had a bargain by keeping the tires. While they stripped off the tires Doc and I went to work.

A number of things were fouled up. A case of too many "owners" all tinkering and not knowing what they were doing. They had the firing order wrong, the coil adjustments out of tune and the carburetor so rich it would flood. In less than a half hour we had it running nicely and drove it home on the rim. They weren't very happy after seeing how easy it was for us to fix it, but since they had declined our first offer of help for free we didn't feel a bit bad. We fixed it up, adding some old tires and sold it a short time later to a father for his boy who wanted a Model-T.

In our eagerness to get our second Model-T running we had traded rear wheels with our first Model-T and left it to sit. As school time approached we decided to get #1 running again. We replaced some parts we had borrowed and started it up. I began to drive it out of our backyard to the street via a vacant lot used for growing sweet corn. The wheels lodged in the corn furrows and the car wouldn't pull itself out. We worked and thought and couldn't figure out what was wrong with the bands or transmission. Finally we went to see my Uncle Lee. He asked a few questions, then smiled & said we had probably left the keys out of the rear axles when we changed wheels. Doc looked at me and I at him, Eugene Barret a good friend and class mate had helped us that day exchanging wheels from #2 to #1 while we'd worked on #2, our new one. Sure enough Eugene had not installed the keys, had he been there when we got #1 going he could have told us they were missing as he'd left the keys in the tool box. Doc & I had never taken rear wheel off/on & didn't know about square "keys" that fit in slots like a single fixed tooth to lock wheel to axle, our learning process was to take something apart to learn what made it tick. There were many times Doc and I didn't feel too smart, my but we were eager to learn, & quick to tell the other of something we'd discovered.

For a few days we only had one license plate for two cars. My father was unequivocally insistent that we properly license the new car. It seemed to us that no one should object to swapping a $4.00 license plate between a $5.00 and $7.00 car if we only drove one at a time. It was some time before I appreciated my fathers insistence that we do what was right and not what we could get away with.

The neighborhood kids of all ages took quite an interest in the cars and were always eager to give us a shove when needed. We'd reward them with rides round the block. Little did I know then that one of them, my little sisters playmate, would become my wife.

The fun of those days rubbed off on my Cousin Charles Barclay who was a small kid at the time. Several years later after they had moved away he & his brother Dick bought a Model-T and enjoyed the thrill of what the Tin Lizzy had to teach.

We had both cars running before school started but were still short of some things like a horn or tail light. However this didn't keep us from joy riding in the evenings. As kids gathered for school we'd gather up a bunch and take a spin. We'd give one a trumpet to toot if we needed to honk and another a flash light to hold for a tail light. Some of the boys were simply envious but girls seemed to find it a special delight to go for a spin. We had plenty of horn looters and tail light holders.

As school started Doc took over #1, the pickup, and I #2, the 4 door sedan. Our dual car ownership was resolved, we never had words on who paid for what – it was purely a matter of who had any money to buy what we needed. You couldn’t ask for a better partnership.