My First Car or The Deal of the Century By: John E. Aibel

With the "carbug" bite deeply injected into my blood stream, my obsession to own a car was   

over-powering. I just had to have one. Forget the fact that I was very young boy of about twelve years.   

Now, my Dad was a very savvy business man and he must have just completed a really good deal. In a rare moment in time he told me he would buy me a Corvette when I was old enough. I never forgot this offer.   

Naturally much thought went into what would be my first car. While New York was not considered to be a hot bed of automobile interest, there were, in fact, a lot of unusual vehicles in my neighborhood. 

Within a block radius of our home there was an early circa 1910 Buick, a Franklin collector, and a fellow with two Cadillac V-16's. While these were truly great cars they were not for me.

No, it had to be a Ford Model A roadster or coupe. The reason for this lust goes back to all those HOT ROD magazines read to me. Almost every one of those hot rods were Ford Model A-based. These rods were stuffed full of Ford V-8 engines modified to produce more horsepower. Some used multiple carburetors, supercharges, Mercury stroker crankshafts, and overbored blocks. Some rods used the newly introduced engines made  by Oldsmobile, Cadillac, and Chrysler.   

By the time I was about fifteen years old the family had moved to New Jersey. Sitting on the school bus  gave me an excellent view of the local junk yard. 

One day in route to school I spotted a Model A Victoria in front of the junk yard. It did look like it would run, but the body looked very sad, in need of some bodywork, and paint. Getting Mom to drive me over to look at the "Vicky" revealed the fact that for the sum of $100 I could own the car of my dreams. Not a roadster or coupe, but a rare body style Model A.  

Next it was time to sit down with my Dad to get permission to buy the car. Knowing his business   

acumen, I made him a deal he could not refuse. I released his half-joking promise of a Corvette someday for the right to buy the Model A.

It worked, he made the deal with me. We both won.   

Next I had to get big brother Roy to drive my pride and joy up to Massachusetts so it could be stored in a barn and worked on by me during summer vacation. The 140 mile trip went well until we were almost at our destination. Going through a small town a car suddenly turned in front of us and Roy had to hit the brakes hard. Model A's are not known for having the greatest brakes in the world.

One rear brake locked up and screeched its tire. I was upset because the tires had almost no tread left on them.   

After inspecting the brakes we noticed that a screwdriver that was used as a poor brake fix had fallen out and that only the one rear brake was working! With a temporary fix of wire and that screw driver in place the trip was completed without further incident.   

That next summer found me sanding and playing with the Model A. The barn was located on a private dirt road and I would drive all over this road. I was always found visiting neighbors up and down the road.

I could not afford a new battery, so I always had to park the car on a hill so I could roll down hill, let the clutch out and jump start the Ford. I became good at this and knew just how much of an incline I needed.

By the summer that I was 16 I had my new license, insurance and registration. I never did get the Model A looking good, but I did drive it just about everywhere. 

One evening a girl friend and I were sitting, talking and it became time to go home. Well, I tried the starter, but I had never had a good battery, so it was no use, the Ford would not start. 

“Okay,” I said, “Joan please get out and push the Ford over the ridge to the down grade.”

Worked like a charm, and off into the evening we went!