Columns on Cars

[Pennyrick]

Scotty's recent thread about 'First Cars' got me thinking about some columns on cars I used to write.

As some SpyderLovers know I was a newspaper executive in my earlier life and for a time I wrote a column in some of our newspapers about cars. I thought I might share some of these with y'all and I am copying and pasting one about my 1931 Ford below. If you think more of these are worth sharing let me know and I will put up some others. Anyway, here is one that was published back in 2003.

More on cars I’ve owned
by Rick Rae
In a previous column I talked about my first car that was a 1931 Ford Model A. I appreciate the comments from readers who took the time to e-mail and write me citing similar bouts of nostalgia about their early Fords. One more comment on the Model A before I move on.

Henry Ford was very slow to make changes on his automobiles, Both General Motors and Chrysler had changed from mechanical to hydraulic brakes in the early '30’s but Henry stuck with mechanical brakes until two or three years after the other manufacturers.

My Model A had mechanical brakes. It was a simple arrangement with the brake pedal activating a rod that was attached using a clevis to another rod running to the rear of the car; connected to the brake shoes. When pushed, the brake pedal moved this series of rods to activate the shoes against the brake drums.

One night I was double dating with my friend Ray. We had picked up his date and were on the way to pick up mine when I came to an intersection, pushed on the brakes and nothing happened! The pedal went to the floor. I quickly geared down, which was no mean feat in a Model A as the transmission wasn't synchronized for first gear, and rolled it to a stop against a curb. Crawling under the car, I found that the cotter pin, holding the clevis to the brake rod had fallen out and disconnected things.

Slightly late to pick up my date, I went to her door and found her waiting. She was wearing a wrap-type skirt that was popular in the '50s, secured by a very large safety pin at the front. Quickly, I said, "can you change into something else? I need that pin." Too startled to object she dutifully went back in and changed, returned and handed me the pin. She and her mother then watched in amazement as I put my brakes back together with that pin. I think I ran the car that way for a couple of weeks afterward.

About a year later I finally tired of a top speed of 52 miles per hour and decided to sell my 'A' and upgrade. I negotiated a deal with a classmate, sold it for $200 and then bought a 1947 Chevy coupe for $150. It didn't take long for me to remove all the chrome trim, fill in the holes, add a set of wide whitewalls, moon wheel discs and paint it all black. Although speedier than the old Ford, it had an in-line six-cylinder engine, that didn't measure up to some of my friends with V8’s but it was an improvement for me.

That old six-cylinder engine proved to be almost indestructible, but I tried my best to blow it up.

One of my many driving faults was following too closely. It took several lessons to cure me of that habit. The first came when I was following a car that slammed on the brakes at a caution light. I locked up mine and crumpled the bumper, front fenders and grille on my newly painted Chevy.

Once I paid for the repairs on the 1955 Chrysler I ran into, I had no money left to repair my own car. (The owner was kind enough not to report the collision to the authorities). I limped my car home with steam coming out from what was left of my radiator and parked it.

Saturday was a cold one even for Canadian winters with temperatures in the low teens. That gave me an idea. With freezing fingers, I took off the bent bumper, unbolted the damaged grille and radiator from the car, disconnected all the hoses and banged out the fenders with a hammer.
I found that I could drive that old six-cylinder without the radiator in an air-cooled mode for about 20 minutes before it would begin to overheat and start to miss. Since my school was just a 10-minute drive from my house, I took to driving to and from school that winter with an air-cooled Chevy.

One day, I foolishly agreed to drive a young lady home from school and her house was just outside my 20-minute range. She was very cute, however and her charms overruled my good sense. We would have been fine if the plows had cleared the snow from her street but as I made the turn onto her road, I got stuck in the snow. Trying to rock the car back and forth to free it, really took a toll on my already too hot motor and, with a big bang, it expired, right then…in the snow drift.

I think it cost me $35 to tow the car to the wrecking yard where I sold it for $25. Needless to say, I walked to school for the remainder of the year.

 

[NancysToy]

Thanks for the smiles. Wheeled vehicles may have been responsible for almost as many good stories as the opposite sex, over the years. Those times weren't necessarily fun while we were living them, but they make for great reading.

 

[ARtraveler]

Thanks for posting this. :thumbup:

 

[Bob Denman]

:agree: Sitting here with the Barrett-Jackson auction on... :thumbup:

 

[ARtraveler]

They do have some very nice stuff on Barrett Jackson. Unfortunately, those guys have way more money to spend for toys than I will ever have. But---I do like to watch that program a lot. :thumbup:

 

[boborgera]

Thanks for the smiles. Wheeled vehicles may have been responsible for almost as many good stories as the opposite sex, over the years. Those times weren't necessarily fun while we were living them, but they make for great reading.

How does it go;;
The older i get the better i ''was''.hyea:

 

[Cavman]

Post some more stories. That was great!

 

[Pennyrick]

Another Column

Duel on the road proves too much for Bermuda blue Mayfair

by Rick Rae

The summer of 1958 was shaping up well. I was 18 and had begun work at International Harvester in Hamilton, Canada (my hometown). My father, who had been very ill with polio for many years, seemed to be improving, although he was not yet able to work. Between my paycheck and my Mothers we were making ends meet.

As a result, I went car shopping and drove off the lot in a new (to me), 1954 Dodge Mayfair hardtop.

Now the Mayfair name may not be familiar to folks around here. In Canada, it was customary for manufacturers to brand their offerings for the Canadian market with different names. For example, the Pontiac lines had names like Pathfinder and Parisienne, and Dodges came as Mayfairs or Regents. The Royal line was offered in both countries, but in the U.S.A., the other two Dodge lines were called Coronet and Meadowbrook.

My Mayfair featured the Red Ram V-8, which was the same basic engine, that was offered the year before in the Chrysler line. At 241 cubic inches it was a small V-8, but it put out 140 horsepower with it's advanced hemispherical combustion chamber design. The "Hemi" would go on to greater glory in coming years but this was the beginning.

Unfortunately, the transmission in my Dodge wasn't up to the task of getting all that power to the rear wheels. Dodge had come up with a semi-automatic transmission featuring a fluid coupling that they marketed as Gyro-torque drive. In Canada they called it Hy-drive. Even though you had a regular clutch, the fluid coupling allowed you to come to an idle and then drive away in high gear without shifting. That was pretty cool on a date, but when a '55 Olds pulled alongside at a light, it left me looking at taillights pretty quick. You could shift it manually but the fluid coupling hampered quick shifts making the torque created by the "Hemi" next to useless at stoplight getaways.

As the summer wore on, I began to make some changes to the car. The big rage back then was to have a car 'nosed' and 'decked'. That meant removing the chrome trim, filling in all the holes and running a small peak or bullnose down the center. This was before the days of fiberglass kits, so a lead bar, small torch and a body rasp were the needed tools to 'lead in' all the holes. I got a bit carried away and stripped all the chrome from the sides and top of the rear fenders as well.

After weeks of wet sanding, it was ready for the paint shop. Even though I had painted cars in the past, I decided that this car deserved professional treatment. Several coats of Bermuda Blue were sprayed on my treasure, hand rubbed after each coat and the application of new wide whitewalls and moon discs set it off.

My job at International Harvester's advertising department had me writing manuals and brochures on their diesel trucks. I frequently talked to my counterparts at the IHC plant in Fort Wayne, Indiana and I received an invitation for me and my family to visit them and attend the Indiana State Fair that was coming up.

With my father's health improving somewhat, we all packed into my Dodge for the trip to Fort Wayne.

We visited with my friend from the Harvester plant and attended the state fair with her family. When I found out that her son had an extra ticket to that weekend's Kingston Trio concert at Purdue University, it made the trip complete.

On board my Dodge, on the way back from Purdue with my friend's son and two of his buddies, a guy in a '56 Plymouth Fury decided to test my mettle. As we sped along the two-lane blacktop in the Indiana countryside, one part of me said, "This is stupid," while, another said, "You can take that Fury!" With the pedal floored and the needle pegged for some time, I was able to keep up but gradually the Fury opened up a gap. His "Hemi" was two' years newer than mine and a bit larger.

As I pulled into Fort Wayne in the early morning hours, I noticed a good deal of smoke coming out my exhaust. The following morning as I loaded up my Mom and dad for the trip back to Canada, the engine sounded rough. As we drove homeward, the smoking increased and the power diminished. By the time we stopped for gas, it took four quarts of oil just to see a line on the dipstick. Something was seriously wrong under the hood! I nursed it homeward as the top speed dropped from 50 to 40 to 30 mph and slowly pulled into our driveway.

The following morning, a mechanic confirmed that my engine was fried. Two of the pistons had melted, burning up the head gaskets, and the back two cylinders were full of coolant. The coolant had made it's way to the bearings and they were shot along with most of the other components inside my "Hemi".

So once again I was left on foot.

 

[Bob Denman]

:shocked: "Pride goeth before a fall..."; wasn't that the saying?
Sorry to hear that a bit of youthful bravado killed your car...
But thanks for the story; how did your Dad's polio progress? I've heard of other folks getting a nice reprieve from it...

 

[coz]

great stories D T

please keep them coming, great reading. anybody else have any funny car stories ?opcorn:

 

[retread]

How does it go;;
The older i get the better i ''was''.hyea:

You too?

john

 

[boborgera]

You too?

john

Yep, When i was a kid in Brooklyn , I could hit a Spaldeen 4 sewers. hyea:

 

[Pennyrick]

Wide trackin' ... almost

by Rick Rae

Readers have probably noticed that some of the cars I write about have been peculiar to Canada, where I grew up, as they had never heard of them in this part of the country.

That set me thinking about a neighbor who owned a 1947 Monarch. In Canada, the Ford Motor Company marketed a Canadian version of the Ford, called the Meteor, as well as a Canadian version of the Mercury, called a Monarch. In 1978, they decided to market the Monarch in the U.S., but my neighbor's Monarch pre-dated that one by 31 years. It looked exactly like a Mercury of the same year, but the trim was different and instead of the figure of Mercury with winged feet on the hood, it featured the likeness of a lion.

Usually the Canadian models carried the body style similar to the American models, but the mechanicals were different. Sometimes the engines and running gear in the Canadian cars were a couple of years behind their American counterparts.

With General Motors cars, the makes were the same, but the model lines were often different. In 1963, my mother came into possession of a brand new Pontiac Strato Chief. In Canada, the Pontiac line began with the Pathfinder at the bottom, then to the Strato Chief, then the Laurentian and on up to the Parisienne, which was the top of the line. There were no Gran Prix or Bonnevilles in Canadian Pontiacs, and the basic power came from a six-cylinder engine shared with Chevrolets. In fact, there was little difference between Pontiacs and Chevys.... they shared almost all the same components except the body.

Shortly after Mom got the car, Penny and I borrowed it to vacation to Florida. I'd always felt that the wheels on that Pontiac seemed too far inside the wheel wells. Somehow the body just seemed too big for the rest of the car. It wasn't until we pulled into a gas station somewhere in the Carolinas that I got a hint of what was wrong.

As we pulled up to the pumps, a fella came out of the station and started a conversation about the car. How do you like wide-trackin', he inquired.

When I asked him what he was talking about, he told me about all the new commercials promoting the track on the all-new '63 Pontiacs. When I told him we hadn't heard about that up in Canada, he began prowling around the car looking it over.

"Well dern," he exclaimed, "them wheels is a good foot too fer inside where they oughter be."

Then, he popped the hood and took a look at that lonely little stovebolt six-cylinder sitting inside the huge engine compartment.

"Goshamighty," he wheezed as he wiped his brow with an oily rag. "Some fool's done put a Chevy underneath this here Pontiac by mistake."

The photos I have put up here show the space in the wheel wells that looked so funny to that garage attendant. That is my wife showing off the stickers of all the campgrounds we stayed in on that trip in 1963.

 

[Pennyrick]

:shocked: "Pride goeth before a fall..."; wasn't that the saying?
Sorry to hear that a bit of youthful bravado killed your car...
But thanks for the story; how did your Dad's polio progress? I've heard of other folks getting a nice reprieve from it...

Bob, I've posted another column and as long as someone says they like 'em I can keep them running. My Dad survived another couple of years but ultimately the stress of the Polio took his life. It was called Infantile Paralysis back in those days. Jonas Salk came up with his vaccine in '57 but it did not become available to the public until 1962.

 

[Oldmanzues]

Thanks for the story about the Mayfair. I did not want to reply, so will just add. I had a DeSoda with that Transmission. Fast take off like a bowl of mush.
I can not believe that people say stories change over time. I remember doing over a hundred on my Whizzer and one hundred fifty two on my Harley Hummer. Somebody once said, the difference between a "old timers tale" and a "War Story" was the old time started with "Once upon...". the War started with" Now this is no s***.
Oldmanzues