tell a Model A related story

[David in San Antonio]

Woofa, my now-21 year old son despises my A. He complains that the awooga horn hurts his ears. He argues that the exhaust is polluting and stinks. He hates the attention the car gets. He said when he inherits the car he will burn it. I think this is all about establishing his own identity apart from me. He really wants me to buy him a Bugatti Veyron, or a Lamborghini at the very least.
I tell him he can’t get my goat, because I don’t have a goat.

[woofa.express]

Is Faster Better?

This is a story about a farmer, his name is Graham. Graham was interested in learning to fly so he purchased a small Piper Cherokee. A 140hp aeroplane which has 4 seats. It would fly with 4 onboard on a cool day. A very cool day.. Otherwise 2 people on board was quite okay.
Well he learned to fly and I’d see him scooting around the local area in the afternoons, he was enjoying himself. The aeroplane was kept near his house which would have driven his wife mad with dust he left her when he opened the throttle.
It took about 2 years and those would-be pilots who held themselves in high esteem; otherwise known as armchair authorities, convinced Graham he needed a faster aeroplane. Something that he could go touring in and with retractable wheels. Something that would look slick and make him feel proud when he stopped by airstrips and airports away from home. Well Graham went and purchased a 260hp Piper Comanche which met the specifications recommended. But more fuel burn, more dust for his wife to clean, more friends who liked to fly but didn’t have an aeroplane of their own. Graham did very few tours in it and lost interest. He quit the afternoon local flights. The aeroplane was too fast and the pilot workload much greater. Not suitable for spying on his neighbours and to compare their crops. About a year later he sold it and said to me how he missed that little aeroplane. He has not replaced it.
As a side benefit his wife had no dust to clean. He probably has fewer friends now but more sincere ones.
The pictures are not of Graham’s aeroplanes but the same type and sourced from the internet.

__________________

[woofa.express]

Our farm. The transition from draft horse to tractor.

Perhaps I was hasty in saying I had no rapport with horses. I had forgot a draft horse we had and he worked well for us. Easy to catch, easy to harness up and willingly pull a dray. We would load this dray with baled hay to feed our cattle. It was heavy so we had to push on the wheels to help it up a small incline of a channel bank. I feel somewhat guilty because I have forgotten this willing workers name. I don’t recall what ever happened to him but I do hope he had a dignified retirement and end of life.
I do remember our first tractor. An A. No, not any adaption of my favourite motor car; the Ford Model A, but a Farmall Model A. I’ll post an internet picture below this story. We had used on occasions my granddads International W4 and I had learned to drive this, I say drive but not really. I was too small to engage the clutch and knew nothing about gears. That all came progressively. Back to the Farmall A story. We used waste oil in the engine. Dad had several 44 gal drums of this. They were tipped a bit to the side and chocked so as the rain ran off the top and not into the oil. The pump was about 12 inches short of the drum bottom so we didn’t pick up carbon or trash that had settled over the long period they had sat waiting to be used. The Farmall burned standard (low octane) fuel, remembering back all engines in those days were low compression. I remember dad’s disappointment even anger when the price rose from 5 pence a gallon to 7 pence. He said we were trying to develop a farm and eat as well and this would be difficult at this price escalation. I can also remember one evening he driving to the church to borrow money so as he could feed us. As a child I didn’t understand the hardship we (and we weren’t Robinson Crusoe) endured.

Jim Brieley's writes in his Model A maintenance book about hardships his family endured when he was young. It's worth a read. Sacrifice by parents has of course led to better lives for our generation and our kids, grandkids and for some of us great grandkids.

The Farmall A. I don't have a picture of ours because I didn't have a camera. This picture is from the internet and looks more pristine with its shiny red paint than ours ever did.

[atch]

Woofa,

Does FB have a "like" button somewhere? I'd hit it after reading your stories if it existed. I, for one, enjoy reading of your adventures. I've only had my Model A for ten weeks so I haven't had any experiences to add to this thread. Other, that is, than the fact that in that time I have put 1,025 miles on it. I love it.

[woofa.express]

Originally Posted by David in San Antonio

Woofa, my now-21 year old son despises my A. He complains that the awooga horn hurts his ears. He argues that the exhaust is polluting and stinks. He hates the attention the car gets. He said when he inherits the car he will burn it. I think this is all about establishing his own identity apart from me. He really wants me to buy him a Bugatti Veyron, or a Lamborghini at the very least.
I tell him he can’t get my goat, because I don’t have a goat.

Beautiful even elegant but Unwanted.
I purchased some quality heavy and attractive timber from the Daintree area which is tropical rainforest in far North Queensland. I had it transported to Melbourne some 1801 miles south and made into quality dining tables for my kids. Two were returned which disappointed me after to costs and trouble I had gone to.
I had reason to get a visit from an antique dealer who valued them at $400 which left me aghast even appalled me. He was aware of what they would have cost but his explanation provided some logic. He said children didn’t really value or want items from their parents however grandkids mostly always did.

Keep this beautiful motorcar for your grandkids. Don't let it out of your family.

[woofa.express]

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Our ultra wealthy inner city locations are now known as Tesla Zones.

[woofa.express]

A new but unwelcome experience.

Malaysia is comprised of 2 locations. Peninsula Malaysia which you would all know is located between Thailand in the north and Singapore in the south. Plus in the west of Borneo is their state of Sarawak and in the north of Borneo is Sabah. It is in Sabah where my story takes place. (I was spreading fertilizer on palm plantations, urea for foliage greening or photosynthesis, potash for fruit development and phosphate for root development and yield).
The aeroplanes were in good condition and well maintained however the loaders were fork lifts, modified with long reach booms and scooping buckets. Improvised and inadequate and frequently breaking down.
The fertiliser was delivered by tip trucks but at times in bags, sometimes 1 ton bags and at other times in cwt bags and this required labour to empty them. Sometimes a team of men and other times women.
Drivers of the loaders were Filipino; they were good workers and likeable people. My good loader buddy was Amat; name shortened from Mohamed. They were not necessarily Muslim but had converted so as to be issued a work permit, (most of Malaysia’s guest workers were without work permits and they were exploited by employers and government agents).
Hope that was interesting but I’m getting away from the story I intend to tell. It was a job where the fertilizer was delivered in 1 cwt bags and about a dozen girls and women were assigned to empty these bags. During these loader breakdowns Amat and I would kid to these women and girls. I’d speak and Amat would interpret. Mr Gary would say he needed a wife, who would like to be. Giggle giggle giggle. Much whispering would take place. There was only 1 who was not married. She was 14. They said I was a rich man and should take one from Bollywood. I’d then ask who would like to come for a ride in the aeroplane, again giggle giggle giggle. No one but Amat would coax them. I’d line them up and run through the rhyme , enie meanie miney moe catch a nigger by the toe. You all know the ditty. Well they had no idea of what I was saying however I’d emphasis the rhyme and they’d figure it out. On this day there was an old man who just happened to be there and he won the selection. So we both climb in the aeroplane, quite squeezy because it is only a single seater. I’d take off and climb to 5 or 6 thousand, do a few turns and descend down. I’d fly carefully because these people were nervous as they had never flown before. Those flights made the passenger a celebrated person for their life.
When I flew back to base I had a strange incident. I was getting quite itchy and it was becoming worse. It took a while but I realised the problem was body lice. My passenger must have been crawling with them and they had found new pasture on which to graze. Me. When I got back to base I stripped off, sprayed myself with personal insect spray, plus my clothing. I showered, washed my clothing then returned to the aeroplane and sprayed the cabin of that too. End of lice and end of story.
What well known fellow said “end of story”? Can you tell me?

[katy]

According to the interweb:

The phrase "end of story" is a common English idiom and not attributed to any single specific person. It is an informal, emphatic expression used to signal that a statement is final, a discussion is over, and there is nothing more to be added or debated.

End of story.

[woofa.express]

Originally Posted by katy

According to the interweb:

The phrase "end of story" is a common English idiom and not attributed to any single specific person. It is an informal, emphatic expression used to signal that a statement is final, a discussion is over, and there is nothing more to be added or debated.

End of story.

Hi Katy. I had in mind Louis Armstrong. High Society

[katy]

High Society

Methinks that movie was before my time.

[jboggess]

Always drive ahead and keep space in front of you.

Back in 2017 on my first tour with my fresh restored 29 roadster with the breaks not even adjusted yet i was driving with a club in Pebble Beach with about 10 cars or so. I was the last one in line since everyone else was speeding. Naturally i was trying to keep up but with all the blind corners i kept on loosing sight of them. After driving for awhile and not seeing any A's in front of me i flew around this blind corner and low and behold there sat all the A's at this red light not moving. Slamming on my breaks and not even having them adjusted properly yet i just kept on going forward into the stop cars, after realizing i wasnt going to stop in time i pulled up as hard as i could on the emergency break and barely got the car stopped with only 2 feet between my A and the A in front of me. I was lucky that everything worked out ok.

[woofa.express]

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A most unusual racing car.

Goondiwindi is a reginal town in on the banks of the McIntyre river which forms the state boarder between Queensland and New South Wales. It is the business and commercial centre for a large cropping and grazing area in both states. It is also the home of a well known race horse named Gunsynd, that name being composed of the town of course and its owners which had formed a syndicate to purchase and train the animal.
It was yesterday Patsy and I were motoring from our town of Tocumwal to Brisbane to spend time with our son, wife and 2 of their 4 kids who were visiting the city. Passing through Goondiwindi I saw a most unusual motorcar racer. I conversed with the owners, husband and wife Colin and Gay. They gave me the rundown on the vehicle. An Austin 7 converted to a boat tail racer. Seven and half horse power on a 750cc engine. Why boat tail. Well if you look at an aeroplane they too taper to the rear and this is to reduce drag. And so it is for this high speed racer. It is the only one in Australia and I suggested an antique category for Austin 7 racers should occur and this one and only would win every time. End of chapter 1.

Ford Model A’s were sold in England and the engine output was reduced to 28hp.
Why? Tax was levied at engine power. No doubt an English ‘28 Model A was a powerful bruit compared to this Austin. England was laced with little lane ways where one car needed to stop and move off the road to let the other pass. Many of those little tiny roads still exist today. Another oddity was the 3 wheel car. And why 3 only wheels? Again because less tax was levied. So are the British adverse against paying such a relatively small amount of tax? Maybe because not too many are flush? How does that compare with today? The current trend is not to avoid tax but to evade it and not in pocket change but volumes difficult to imagine. And that’s not only England but where I live as well. End of chapter 2.

England is a pleasant country. Lush green pasture with plenty of beautiful trees, Brits would not know the meaning of drought. There are quaint little villages with houses that have thatched roofs and plaster walls. Low doorways because mankind was not as tall when these houses were built. I understand the thatched roofs have a useful life of about 30 years and are costly to renew. Apparently the household animals lived, slept or sheltered in these roofs but when rain became heavy or persistent they couldn’t hold their grip and down they would slide and fall to the ground. Thus the saying “it’s raining cats and dogs”. End of chapter 3.

I came from a history of ancestors who left England for Van Diemens Land or Tasmania as it is known today. They sailed on classical wooden ships, what Wikipedia describes as square rigged or barques and were guaranteed 7 years employment when they arrived. The fare was complementary. They were my g.g.g.g grandfather Edward and my g.g.g. grandmother Mary. The British government provided them a difficult to refuse alternative: the gallows or transportation. They were prisoners on the charge of theft. When I am in England, which is not often I look at these Brits whose complexion clearly indicates having seen little or no sun with what seems never ending overcast skies and rain.
I am pleased with Edward because of his profession and the magistrate who offered him this great opportunity. Likewise for Mary. This sunny land with open spaces land where I live today is the result. End of chapter 4.

My g. grandfather moved to Collingwood, Melbourne. Today Collingwood is known for a footy team who seemidly cannot win a match. They have some high profile and well know people on their board and we all enjoy ridiculing the team and the management: the lot of them. My g. grandfather then moved to New Zealand, chasing gold I assume. My grandfather was born in Sacramento and I guess his dad went there again chasing gold. My dad, and I were born in New Zealand. I moved to Australia and am not moving. My daughter Sarah (Fifi) lives in Collingwood, or very close by so my how the wheel has turned. End of story.

Pictured above is the boat tail Austin 7 racer and the owners Colin and Gay Jacobson and 2 examples of 3 wheel production motorcars.

[mercman from oz]

[mercman from oz]

[David in San Antonio]

I believe the motor tax in England was based on engine bore. I imagine it was easily understood by the lawmakers, even if they didn’t anticipate the long stroke designs that ensued.

[woofa.express]

Originally Posted by David in San Antonio

I believe the motor tax in England was based on engine bore. I imagine it was easily understood by the lawmakers, even if they didn’t anticipate the long stroke designs that ensued.

yes David, that is possibly so. A smaller bore will deliver less power. Love your motorcar. cheers, gary

[katy]

Originally Posted by David in San Antonio

Woofa, my now-21 year old son despises my A. He complains that the awooga horn hurts his ears. He argues that the exhaust is polluting and stinks. He hates the attention the car gets. He said when he inherits the car he will burn it. I think this is all about establishing his own identity apart from me. He really wants me to buy him a Bugatti Veyron, or a Lamborghini at the very least.
I tell him he can’t get my goat, because I don’t have a goat.

Methinks you need to disown your son, find a suitable replacement.

[atch]

Originally Posted by katy

Methinks you need to disown your son, find a suitable replacement.

You could adopt me...

[David in San Antonio]

Atch, be careful what you wish for. I’m an ogre of a father. My rules include cleaning up after yourself when you cook, mowing the lawn, hanging your shirts in your closet, no swearing, just all kinds of unreasonably strict requirements. I’m a big believer that we parents are genetically predisposed to make our offspring desperate to leave, and they’re predisposed to make us fervently wish they’d get the heck out. That way when they do flee the domicile everyone is immeasurably happier.

[atch]

Originally Posted by David in San Antonio

Atch, be careful what you wish for. I’m an ogre of a father. My rules include cleaning up after yourself when you cook, mowing the lawn, hanging your shirts in your closet, no swearing, just all kinds of unreasonably strict requirements. I’m a big believer that we parents are genetically predisposed to make our offspring desperate to leave, and they’re predisposed to make us fervently wish they’d get the heck out. That way when they do flee the domicile everyone is immeasurably happier.

@David in San Antonio,

1. I don't cook, but I do all the dishes and clean the kitchen/table(s) after eating,

2. I do the lawn mowing,

3. I hang shirts and put tee shirts, underwear, jeans, sox, etc., where they are supposed to go in my closet,

4. I would help do the laundry but Sherry doesn't allow me near the washer/dryer; she wants to do everything "her way."

5. I don't swear as my Bible tells me not to,

6. There's no way on Earth that you can/could be any stricter than my parents (may they rest in Heavenly peace)

My oldest daughter hated living with me/us but didn't move out for a long time because then she would have to start paying for everything. I think that she still has half of her very first paycheck; she's that tight. She was almost through with her Bachelor's degree when she finally left us in peace. The other daughter loved (loves) her mama and daddy more than life itself but knew that the time came to leave the nest when she got her first job shortly after high school graduation. They both are wonderful mothers and it's going to hurt them immeasurably when their own children leave home.