oldcarfudd

It'll be a long drive back from Patagonia!

I'm 82, have a '14 Model T, a '12 Buick, an '11 Stanley Steamer, and an '07 single-cylinder Cadillac. I drive them frequently and give rides to anyone who wants one (which means just about everybody). The neighbors already think I'm a complete weirdo!

Here is a consideration I've not yet seen in this discussion. I seem to remember - possibly incorrectly - that there are parts of the world in which any car has to pass inspection. It might be that some of these places will not pass a car, even an antique that sees limited use, if it emits visible smoke. Matt said that Knight engines tend to smoke, even if they're in good condition. It would be devastating to spend many hours and dollars restoring this car and not be permitted to drive it. You might look into your local regulations before you decide to buy this car.

I think the Ford is a 1914. The doors don't go all the way down the body as the '13 doors did, and the windshield folds back instead of forward.

That VMCCA movie is priceless! Thank you so much for posting it. I've taken the liberty of posting links to it on the Horseless Carriage Club and Model T websites for others to enjoy.

According to the HCCA roster, that Lewis is alive and well in Indiana.

McPherson College in McPherson, KS, offers a degree in auto restoration. One of the professors is Chris Paulsen, a former National President of the Horseless Carriage Club. He's very familiar with brass era cars in general and can probably help you. He is also active in arranging tours for brass era cars in the midwest, so you'll have something to do with your Brush after you get it sorted out.

The HCCA website shows a 1927 Franklin open touring car for sale in Missouri for $30,000. I know nothing about the car or the seller, or whether the price is negotiable. From the pictures, it seems to be a nice looking car.

It's a touring car if it has a full back seat. If it only seats two people inside, and possibly two more in an external rumble seat, it's a roadster.

The Model T Ford Club of America has a VERY active website, mtfca.com Also, that club is having its annual week-long convention in Sierra Vista, AZ in February. There will be plenty of people to give you advice, and possibly a ride or even a driving lesson. Model Ts are a hoot to drive, and there are members who tour thousands of miles a year in them.

It appears that the large gentleman is sitting in the right-side passenger's seat, and reaching over to the wheel with his left hand. It also appears that there's no way he could sit in the left seat without the wheel making a sizable indentation in his ample abdomen.

I see some signs that don’t look like French. Is Provençal still spoken here?

Different rear fender. Also, that bright line around the radiator suggests it's a Stearns.

My first wife, Helen, came from Alice Springs, Australia. She had learned to drive on her dad’s Aussie-built Chevrolet, automatic, RHD, in the desert. I brought her to an apartment in downtown Newark, NJ, from which I walked to work at Prudential Insurance, and let her drive my car, a ‘61 stick-shift VW. There was a learning curve. A year later, we bought a house in the suburbs, and Helen would drive me to the train in the bug. One day it snowed. Over a foot. I considered myself a pretty good snow driver, but Helen had never seen the stuff, so I took her out for a lesson. She did quite well, but then asked what would happen if she drifted into a snowbank. I said you just rock back and forth and drive out, and proceeded to demonstrate. I drove into a snowbank, and rocked. And rocked. And rocked. About a half hour later, I finally got the car out of the snowbank. And for the rest of our marriage, I heard: “And this is how you get out of a snowbank” whenever I did, or proposed doing, something stupid. The following year I got transferred to Minneapolis; after six years we both got to be pretty good at driving on snow. My next transfer was to Houston. Talk about culture shock! By then my commuter car was a ’66 Datsun 1600 roadster, a softer-riding cheap knockoff of an MGB but without the joy of Lucas electrics. Our family car and two antiques took up the whole garage, so the Datsun sat outside with the top down and a tonneau cover. One morning I awoke to about five inches of wet, gloppy snow that was continuing to come down; it was the first measurable snowstorm in Houston in 12 years. I was damned if I was going to stand out in that stuff putting my top up, so I donned a 1905 buffalo overcoat I’d bought some time back at a Minnesota farm sale. I zipped open the driver’s side of the tonneau cover and drove to work. My beard was reddish-brown in those days, the coat was about the same color and had lapels that came up around my ears, and my hair was white as it has always been, so I must have looked like a yeti driving a bright red open sports car in a snowstorm. I may have caused a dozen accidents as the Houstonians, totally unaccustomed to snow, stared at this apparition instead of looking where they were going.

I live in a small private community of what was once weekend and summer houses. We have a lake and 95 houses on small lots, surrounded by a very wealthy area with 3-acre zoning. Last spring a neighbor's boy was playing in the woods about 50 feet behind his back yard, and found this. We decided it was probably from a '20s Chev.