Of all the automobiles I've owned in my lifetime, I rank my two-door Model A coupe, the one with the kapooka-kapooka-kapooka sound of the motor running that matched the beating of my heart, far and away my favorite. You need heat, open the vent to the engine room. Need more room while watching the submarine races with a friend, pull straight up on the gear shift between the driver and the passenger and it swings up next to the steering wheel. Brakes? Stomp a floor pedal with your right foot and it presses friction pads against a spinning drum. Hope for the best. From time to time braking will elicit loud screams from the riders. Some models had a two-passenger rumble seat that opened up in place of a trunk (the height of cool). Mine didn't have a rumble seat.
I bought it for $75 while still in high school and in 1949 it delivered me to the University of Oregon. After the 1950 Christmas break, my friend Del Weaver rode back from Grants Pass to the University with me. Between Grants Pass and Eugene there are lange mountains and the highway was old 99 with its two killer lanes. On the day we headed north a horrendous snow storm struck the state and at the first mountain pass the state patrol stopped traffic, allowing only cars with chains to proceed. Chains? Model A coupes don't need chains. As soon as the patrolman was distracted with new arrivals, we swooped around the back-up line and continued our now very exciting journey.
It was going OK, a little slipping, a little sliding, and then we came to the next mountain pass and traffic has slowed way down. "This is bad," I told Del. "Because if we ever stop on this uphill grade, we are dead." Our decisions so far had been brilliant and it was time for another one of those. I swung out and passed any car we caught up to and our luck held (a few close ones with oncoming traffic) as we hit the summit.
The long downhill we saw had cars stacked up, stopped cold. Apparently there was a wreck somewhere down the line. With those primitive Model A mechanical brakes I had no way of stopping and traffic was oncoming on my left. The only choice I had was the right hand shoulder and I took it, screaming past the stalled traffic now on my left, honking my pathetic horn (uga, uga, uga), with Del making strange gurgling noises and trying to grasp straps and bars that didn't exist. People ahead of me who had left their cars were diving over banks off the shoulder to get out of my way. Keeping traction was my only hope and we finally,got to the bottom of the hill. We slipped past the fender-bender that had our lane blocked and found clear sailing the rest of the way. I recall the people we were passing seemed shocked and surly.
Del observed that it was difficult to over praise the cool decision making shown by two determined scholars finding their way home.
