Vans, Convertibles and a 50-year Model A Infatuation

“If you don’t look back at your car when you park it, you own the wrong car.”
—9GAG

When I was 14 my father sat me down at the kitchen table one Sunday morning and told me he had a proposition for me.

“Son, he said, “when I was your age my father made a proposal to me, and I would like to make the same deal with you. If you will refrain from drinking and smoking to age 21, I will give you $1000 to buy a new car.”

Remember, in those days you could buy a decent car for $1000!

However, I got a nice surprise the year I was leaving to attend Northwestern. Dad was so proud of me making the honor roll and other honors at Peddie that he presented me with a very used Plymouth. It had originally been a demonstrator car for one of his salesmen. As a demonstrator car it had a huge trunk designed to carry a masonry saw. The removal of the equipment had left it with a huge backseat.

Not the hottest vehicle on campus that fall, but I was one of the few freshmen who had their own wheels. Plus, the huge backseat made it very popular for double dates. That car served me well for all my time at Northwestern and there were occasions when three couples would squeeze in to attend a party in downtown Chicago.

After Robbie and I were married and living in Glenview, just north of Chicago, I decided it was time for an upgrade—something sporty. We bought a well-used, red MG convertible that gave Robbie transportation while I was at work and a fun vehicle for us to take our new daughter, Candy, to explore the Chicago area in style.

When it came time to move to Kansas City, we sold the MG and bought a traditional Ford station wagon to make the move and serve as our family car for several years.

On one of my business trips to France, I became enthralled with the Renault convertible. When I decided we needed a second car, we imported a shiny blue Renault, another totally impractical yet fun car. As our primary vehicle we continued with conventional station wagons.

When we learned, we were moving to Aspen, we knew we needed a more powerful vehicle to carry all our stuff and tow the 16-foot inboard/outboard powerboat we were taking with us. We bought a big GMC van but made the mistake of taking the shortcut over 12,000-foot Independence Pass. That was one of my more hair-raising rides as, at that time, Independence Pass was unpaved and there were no guardrails to protect you from 500-foot drop-offs. It would have been an exciting trip without a huge powerboat behind us but with the boat it was a real hair raiser!

After a few years in Aspen, I got the convertible bug again. My good friend, Irv Hockaday, was on the board of Ford Motor Company and Ford had acquired Jaguar. Irv said he could get me the friends and family price. Soon there was a shiny Jaguar convertible in our driveway.

One of my fondest car memories had always been driving to the Ozarks at about age 10 with my father in a Model A Ford convertible. I'll never forget him finally getting off the dirt road and hitting a stretch of asphalt. With the accelerator to the floor, he would scream with delight when we hit 60 miles an hour, “We’re going a mile a minute!” To him it was like breaking the sound barrier. My father knew quite a bit about cars, having built one from scratch out of junkyard parts at age 16.[k1] 

 One night I was talking to Dad on the phone from Aspen.

“Dad, I loved that Model A we had when I was growing up and I have been thinking about getting one.”

It was just a week later that he announced that he had bought one for me – well not exactly – he had made a deal to buy one using my money. A few weeks later the car arrived in Aspen and I arranged to be the chauffeur for the grand marshal and proudly led the Fourth of July parade[k2] , something I continued to do for almost 20 years.

It turned out that my Model A was not as well restored as the seller made it seem, and for that reason, I looked into car restoration professionals and found one in Pueblo, Colorado and made a deal with him to restore the car. It turned out to be a bad choice as he did not do a great job and it took far longer than promised. Years later, I decided to get a complete restoration and add all the options that were available on the original cars. The main additions were spare tires built into both front bumpers. This time I did my homework and found a fine restoration mechanic in Denver who did an outstanding job in a timely manner.

After I lost my eyesight and could no longer drive in the parade, I reluctantly sold the Model A to a friend of Kim's who is now lovingly looking after it in Michigan. 

My hope is that I live long enough for self-driving cars to be available so I can once again own an automobile.