I was born in a few days before Christmas in1958 . . . way too young to have a Model A as my first automobile. Nevertheless, I’ve always been Model A connected. My parents brought me home from the hospital and laid me under the Christmas tree on re-chromed Model A bumpers. The bumpers were a gift to my dad, let’s just say that my dad had two special Christmas presents that year.
Being with my dad and his Model A’s, I have also grown to appreciate the Model A Ford. My Dad passed away in 1998, but not before leaving me strongly connected to Model A Fords as part of my heritage. Hearing the chuck of an “A” motor idling is a sweet sound that fills my ears and heart.
I moved into a new home recently with a 3+-car garage. It wasn’t long before I discovered that I lacked garage space due to all the old car parts, tools, and a nice home for my 1929 Ford Truck. This old car problem did not affect all members of my family. My brother, who does not own a Model A, does not have this problem. His garage is nice and clean with only the cars he drives and a few lawn tools. “You weren’t raised that way,” I told him. I spent my childhood digging around in tools and the old car parts in my father’s garage.
I discovered my father joined MARC in 1958, the year I was born. He was restoring a 1931 coupe at the time. Over the years, he restored a number of Model A’s. He spent time showing me things, letting me help, and telling tales of old cars. I later discovered that all of Ernie’s kids were not raised with this Model A feeling that affected me. When I asked my sister if she wanted a ride in my old truck, she tuned me down. She stated she didn’t care for all those rough road trips, endless weekends at meets, and swap meets. I could not image my childhood without those good times.
Going to MARC meetings, hanging around larger-than-life charters in the Model a club is something I will always remember. As a kid, what joy it was to ride around Greenfield Village in Model “A”s and “ T”s. Taking trips to places like Hershey, Pennsylvania in the rumble seat of our Model A Roadster are childhood memories that just live on forever, even with the rough ride and frequent stops for repairs that these avengers bring. I cannot imagine how others would view a Model A connected life as anything but fun.
I have my own 1929 Model A closed cab truck, it’s hard to steer, has a rough ride, and sounds the greatest! I’m a big guy and my stomach rubs the bottom of the steering wheel and leaves a black mark on my shirt. These things add to the humor of the old car. “It has no seat belts,” my son noted. “With gas splashing around in the gas tank in the gas gage in front of you.
I recently remarried and another MARC member offered the use of his 1931 Vick. That was great; what a wedding photo opportunity! As the crowed gathered around the old car too see off the bride and groom, the Model A’s starter motor caught fire. My bride and I had to find another ride to the wedding reception, and the car sat in front of the church waiting for a tow. The next wedding was getting ready to start. As we left the church to go to the reception, the bride and groom of the next the next wedding had yet another wedding photo opportunity . . . the use of a Model A for their wedding pictures. Model A heritage in their blood. My son is planning on rebuilding a Ford Model A someday and keeping it original. He has been handed down a Model A connection in his heritage.