Hemmings

Date: circa 1990s

Location: somewhere near Cincinnati, Ohio

Source: via Cincinnati State Archives / Flickr

What do you see here?

[Editor’s Note: Elmer Liimatta sent in this story of his first (full-size) car for Reminiscing in Hemmings Classic Car. Got a story about cars you’ve owned, cars you’ve worked on, or working for an automaker? Send it in to editorial@hemmings.com.]

I grew up in Detroit, Michigan. My dad, with only a fifth-grade education, was a good mechanic and had a job at Packard Motor Company. During World War II, Packard had contract work building Rolls-Royce engines for the North American P-51 Mustang fighter planes and PT boats—more than 9,000 of those engines. During that time, we rebuilt used cars because the production of new civilian vehicles had ceased. It was something we still did afterwards; believe it or not, cars were still scarce in 1949. It was a problem, as I was 17 years old and had thoughts about a car of my own.

One day, my cousin—who was “bird-doggin,” or spotting cars for dealers—came over and said, “Elmer, I have a car for you.” That Sunday afternoon we went to his house, which was about 10 miles away. There sat a 1934 Ford Victoria. It was hard to miss with that front end, and it had doors that opened from the front. The car had been used as a paint truck by a previous owner and it had big hooks on the left side that were used to hold ladders between jobs. Someone had made a wood floor in the back that covered the factory recessed floor.

Elmer in his other little carPhoto courtesy Elmer Liimatta

The Ford looked good, but it was tired. I was able to buy it for $50. When I drove it home there was a cloud of blue smoke billowing from the exhaust. Its engine had used all the oil by the time I got home. During lunch that Monday I took three buddies for a ride. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long because the engine stalled, and it was so worn it would not start. We pushed it home.

The solution was to rebuild the engine. While we were at it, we made our own dual exhaust system using 1.50-inch diameter flexible tubing. My Ford had a nice snap to it. Later, I put two Smithy mufflers on it. But now that it sounded good, it needed to look good. We found a pair of doors at Ford Salvage over in Highland Park and bough a can of metallic blue (a silver-blue) paint. Dad took the compressor from an old refrigerator, and an old army surplus air tank, and put them together to create his own air compressor. To make it portable, he made a little cart with casters. It worked well enough that we painted the Ford’s 17-inch spoke wheels yellow.

That summer a friend and I made a 1,500-mile trip to northern Michigan to visit our grandparents. When I faster than over 49 mph, water would squirt out from under the radiator cap; my friend suggested my mother arranged that. During one trip, I was pulled over in Hancock, Michigan, and given a ticket for illegal horn blowing. I had a wolf whistle mounted on the intake manifold; the vacuum operated the whistle when I hit the switch. The fine cost me $4.25, plus $1 in court costs. I borrowed the money from my grandmother. I picked up three brunettes that summer, too, one of whom called it, “Elmer’s little car.” One eventually worked for—and retired from—Dodge Truck where she ran a paint computer in Warren, Michigan. Ford said the Victoria was a four-passenger car, but I was able to pack six or seven friends into it.

After a few months I sold my Ford for $275 because we were building a new house and dad needed money to help secure a mortgage. I was eventually able to buy a 1935 Ford Fordor for $100. I blew a couple of engines while I owned it, maybe because I loved to wind it up in second gear. I miss the three-on-the-floor. After a while I could pull the engine in 45 minutes.

Today I’m still into these cars. I’m currently building a 1932 Ford with ’35 Ford wheels, the only year they had 16-inch, 30-spoke steel wheels. I just need a Brookville pickup roadster body to go with the chassis.

Tucked away in a large building in Salem, Oregon, with no external signage and no obvious entrance from the street, is a truly large and astonishing car collection and museum. It is not publicized, and is hard to find. Most significantly, it is not open to the general public. Those who are fortunate enough to get in usually arrive by pre-arranged tours through special car clubs or, recently, as a fundraiser for a local charity group. The operation of the museum itself is unique. Its location is known, though there are no efforts to publicize it. The identity of the owners is a closely guarded secret. (Several websites have claimed to know, but they are likely in error.) Word is the brothers that own it do have some plans eventually to open the collection up to more public view, but that’s some time off. For the time being, tours can be arranged for a fee, with the proceeds going to charity.

In its more than 117,000 square feet of display area are housed some 600 automobiles, all in fully restored condition, including more than 350 muscle cars from the 1960s onward to the present era. Seen in its entirety, the collection is eclectic, and includes various classics from the Thirties, vintage cars from the Forties and Fifties, exotics from across three decades, and even a couple of wooden hydroplane racing boats—one a Ferrari and one a Maserati—from the 1950s. There’s a large display of Porsches, about a dozen Ferraris from the late Forties to the current era. There’s even a Bizzarini 5300 GT Strada—an exotic with swoopy Italian styling built over Corvette underpinnings. Several Ford GTs from the early versions right to the present model. Several vintage Jaguars from the XK120 to the XK150. A half dozen Mercedes, including a 1930s 540 and a 1950s 300SL coupe and roadster. An original 1970 Toyota 2000 GT sits by itself in the middle of a clear space near the front, its diminutive size somewhat surprising. There’s a 1959 Autobianchi Bianchina, representing the European post-World War II mini-cars of the mid-to-late Fifties recovery period. A Dual Ghia in a back corner is reminiscent of the “La Dolce Vita” era of 1960s Europe. A couple of Alfa Romeos, and the ubiquitous (for its time) Volkswagen Combi round out the view.

Photo by Don Homuth

The biggest and most notable contingent are the muscle cars. Those are clearly of special interest to the owners and comprise more than half of the entire displayed collection.

A long line of Hemi-powered Seventies Dodge Challengers and Plymouth ‘Cudas is displayed in long rows on both sides of one aisle. Not that these are the only Mopar cars on display: There are two identical Dodge Daytonas on turntables, and several more earlier Mopars are featured along nearby aisles. There are two racks of Mopars along one wall that couldn’t fit neatly into the rows, and there’s a Charger with a seldom-seen 426 wedge head with twin crossover four-barrel carburetors.

Ford’s muscle cars are well represented—a lot of Mustangs including some original Shelby GT350s, but also larger sedans and several race cars from the era. There’s a Ranchero pickup with a factory-installed Paxton supercharger that’s so rare that it’s seldom written about.

GM is represented by a long row of Camaros, including several COPOs and Yenkos. Even the 1967 Camaro Cherokee, an early one-of-one styling convertible exercise, is included. There’s a good selection of Pontiacs in their own enclosure, from a 1958 fuel-injected Bonneville convertible to a selection of Firebirds. In 1969, when the first Firebird Trans-Ams were produced, there were eight original Trans-Am convertibles; the rest of them were hardtops. Four of the convertibles are on the floor in this collection. There is a display of Corvettes, too, from the original 1953 through all the iterations since then, up to the present day. No Chevrolet collection would be complete without a 1962 bubbletop Bel Air 409, or a 1957 fuel-injected convertible.

Photo by Don Homuth

There’s a display of Shelby Cobras, both in racing and street trim. Of special note is the “one-of-none” Daytona coupe prototype that Shelby was constructing after the first 289-powered coupes raced at Le Mans. He had constructed a bunch of body panels different somewhat from the originals, and had intended to put a 427 engine in it. However, after Ford approached Shelby to run the Ford GT LeMans effort, the Mk2 coupe panels were simply stacked in a corner of the shop and the car was never actually constructed. It was only much later that the panels were brought out, the original drawings found and the car was built as it would have been run at Le Mans had the Daytona Coupe effort gone forward. It never was and never will be. It sits on a turntable where visitors can get within 10 feet of it.

AMC is represented by a couple of cars, including a RWB 390 cid V-8 Rambler American and the larger Javelin. There’s even an original V-8 Gremlin!

Other notable cars include an original Tucker close to the rope so visitors can look right down into the engine compartment. There’s also a 1946 Bandini, a tiny sports car so rare that few have ever heard of it. Included. too, are a couple of pristine pedal cars for children in as-new condition.

Listing them all would take pages and still not do each of them justice; the collection is just so large that it’s hard to take all of it in. Wandering through it is to be in a sort of automobile wonderland. It’s hard to believe all these great cars are all in one place.

The Brothers Collection got started in the same way people get started on smaller collection: it started with one car, then a few more were added, then a building was established to hold a dozen or so, then a few more cars were added, larger buildings were moved into, until finally it grew into its present size. The history and provenance of each exhibit is known, and many of the more significant exhibits feature thorough signage so spectators can read their history.

If you want to arrange for a tour or an event at the museum, you can email info@thebrotherscollection.com. This will put you in touch with a designated spokesperson for the collection, and any arrangements thereafter are a matter of individual discussion.

It boggles the mind that such a collection in private hands would even be possible, but here it is. It’s notable not only for the remarkable number of cars, or for the variety on display, but also because each and every one of them is restored to perfection. They are as they were when new. The owners continue to acquire new cars to add to the collection, and rumor has it there may be many more housed elsewhere that are currently in the process of restoration.

No one can just walk up, buy a ticket and get in. But if your group is willing, and can pay the fee for a tour, it’s worth every dollar to see it. There is nothing else quite like it anywhere in the country.

The Brothers Collection’s muscle and competition cars

The Brothers Collection’s Corvettes and Cobras

The Brothers Collection’s exotic cars

The Brothers Collection’s classic cars

Date: January 1983

Location: Scarborough, Western Australia

Source: Betty Smith, via State Library of Western Australia

What do you see here?

Photo by Betty Smith

Photo by Betty Smith

On this episode of the Hemmings Hot Rod BBQ, series hosts Mike Musto and Terry McGean answer questions regarding our new YouTube show, IROC REHAB. This is the series where we take an ailing 1987 Chevrolet Camaro IROC-Z with a popped engine and rehab it into a great daily driver that can also pull double-duty as a track and auto-x car.

Since the series aired we’ve been inundated with questions regarding the parts used, our build strategy, and the ultimate goals for our 35-year-old Chevy. So, with that said, it’s time to give everyone some answers!

IROC REHAB Build Series: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQr9KF4sOmKwXYGoyLseFH3krOTk2i5p6

Classic cars are never quite as good as we thought they were back when they were new. That 500-hp Chevelle you had in high school really only made 260, and it handled like dump truck. Add 40 to 50 years into the mix and it is bound to be significantly worse off for wear, especially the steering. Manual steering is not awful when properly set up, but when a manual gearbox gets some age on it, the slop comes in fierce. If your steering box has more than an eighth of a turn of play, then it might be time to rebuild it.

Rebuilding a manual steering gearbox is not difficult and is much cheaper than buying a new one. Plus, if you have a valuable classic, keeping the original versus installing a replacement maintains the value of the car. This was the situation for my 1966 Corvette, as I was keeping it stock. Instead of converting to power or rack and pinion, I opted to rebuild the original Saginaw manual gearbox with a kit from Borgeson (p/n 921039). The kit comes with everything you need to rebuild a worn gearbox including bushings, gaskets, bolts, and the most important parts: the worm and sector gears.

This is a recirculating ball gearbox, which is essentially a giant double-grooved ball bearing assembly. The worm gear—the part of the gearbox that is connected to the input shaft—is a machined block that has the gear teeth on one side and two machined grooves inside the block. Metal ball bearings ride inside the block, providing the bearing surface for the grooved input shaft. As you turn the steering wheel, the bearings spiral through the worm gear block, moving the block up or down the input shaft. This movement is translated to the sector gear, which is attached to the pitman arm. As the ball bearings roll on the shaft, worm block, and each other, each component slowly wears down. This is where the slop comes from.

Eventually, you have to turn the wheel to take up the extra space that is left behind from the wear. This can become significant and that is dangerous situation. Yes, you can compensate for the play, but this also leads to lane drifting as the steering system will wander left and right without the tension inside the gearbox. The solution is a complete rebuild with a new sector and worm gear assembly.

To do this rebuild, you need a few specialty tools, mainly a small shop press, seal drivers, and an inch-pound torque wrench. If you want to replace every bearing race, then you need a Kent-Moore J-5288 and J-5755 bearing cup puller/installer tool, but this is not necessary in most cases and you can reuse the original races. In fact, the instructions state to only remove the races if necessary. We used a gallon of Carb Dip for the small parts and a five-gallon bucket with diesel fuel to clean the case. All of the old grease needs to come out, considering it has a lot of grit and metal shavings in it that will reduce the life of the replacement components.

Aside from the cleaning, the entire rebuild process takes a couple of hours. I let my parts soak overnight to get them clean, but you could put in some more elbow grease and get the job done in a couple more hours. With the rebuild, the 1966 Corvette steering box is nice and tight like it should be, set to factory specs, and ready to be reinstalled into the car.

This worn gearbox came off a 1966 Corvette. I wanted to keep the original case, so I decided to rebuild it with a kit from Borgeson.

The sector gear preload screw requires a flat blade screwdriver and a 5/8-inch wrench. The nut was loosened and then the preload screw can be turned. The three bolts holding the cap to the body were removed and then the set screw is used to push the cap off the sector gear shaft.

Inside the gearbox, you can see the mesh of the sector and worm gears. Most of the wear is not between these gears, but rather inside the worm block.

Next, I used a screwdriver to knock off the retainer ring on the input shaft cap. If you have a very large crescent wrench, that will work, but this is how most of us get the job done.

The nut on the cap is too large for our wrenches, so I used my Channellock pliers. This is not under much tension, so there is very little risk of damage, and the cap should come off with minimal effort.

Once the cap is off, the input shaft comes out by spinning it until the worm gear walks completely off the sector gear. The sector gear will then slide out.

Inside the worm gear are a bunch of ball bearings. This is where the slop comes from. Over time, these bearings wear on each other, the worm block, and the input shaft. This is replaced as an assembly with the Borgeson kit.

Moving to the case, I used a pry bar to remove the input shaft seal.

Then to the press with a 15/16-inch socket and a long extension to drive out the two bushings. These are about an inch and a half long each, so it can be done in one pressing.

The new bushings from the kit get installed with the press as well, but I seated them with a seal driver to make sure they were flush with the inner lip.

The same goes for the inner bushing.

My new output seal is slightly different from the original, which has an exposed metal ring on top. The new seal is all rubber and has a raised lip, so I used a socket instead of a seal driver.

I also replaced the seal on the input shaft cap.

I packed the bearings by hand with new #2 lithium grease. There are two bearings, one on each side of the input shaft.

I also lubed the shaft before loading it into the case.

To seal the threads, I used liquid thread sealant on the input shaft cap. This is required, otherwise grease will eventually work its way into the threads and could cause the cap to loosen, which would be very bad.

I lightly tapped an 18mm socket onto the input shaft, just enough that it stays in place by itself. This is so I can set the preload.

With the worm gear at the end of the travel (all the way at the bottom of the case away from the input shaft) and then back a half turn, I tightened the input shaft cap until the input shaft rotational torque is 5 to 8 in-lb. You need to tighten the cap until it makes contact, and then a little more and rotate the shaft back and forth to seat the bearings, then set the preload.

Once the preload was set, I threaded on the retainer ring and tapped it tight.

Then I tapped the ring in two places with a punch to lock it in place.

I installed the new sector shaft into the case ensuring that the center tooth of the sector gear was in the center groove of the worm gear. Then I filled the entire case with 11 ounces of #2 Lithium grease. You may need to hold the case upside down so the worm gears fall towards the opening to assist the initial meshing of the gears. Do not overfill the case; doing so will blow the seals as the pressure builds inside the case from use.

The sector gear cap got a new gasket and little wipe of grease to pre-lube the bushing (this is the original bushing, which is not replaced as part of this kit).

The preload screw slides into the sector shaft and is then threaded into the cap to pull the cap into place so it can then be bolted down with the new supplied bolts.

The original set screw used a flat blade, but the new one is a more user-friendly Allen-head screw. Setting the pre-load requires an 18-mm socket on the input shaft as well. The set screw is backed all the way off, and then tightened one full turn. Check the rotational force with the torque wrench. This is torque reading #1.

Next, tighten the preload screw until the torque required to turn the input shaft is 4-10 in-lb higher than before.

The rebuilt gearbox is ready to be installed. I chose to wait until after the rebuild to paint the gearbox; this way I would not damage the new paint during the process.

Sources

Borgeson • 860-482-8283 • Borgeson.com

[Editor’s Note: Charles Steinman of Fairport, New York, wrote in with his recollections of his first car, a 1962 Austin-Healey Sprite.]

I had always been a car nut but didn’t have an opportunity to own one while in high school. That changed between my first and second years of college, when my parents relented and let me bring a car back to school. Given the fact that they had no money to contribute to the purchase, I was relegated to buying something based on whatever money I could save up over the summer. Luck – although I’m not sure I would call it that later – would have it that a guy around the corner was selling a 1962 Austin-Healey Sprite that met my two qualifications: It ran, some of the time; and I had the money to buy it.

Of course, you must have a decent sound system in your car and eight-tracks were all the rage then, so the first post-purchase project was the installation of a tape player. My father, although an incredibly handy guy, really didn’t know any more about cars than I did, but he figured we could put a few wires together. We followed the instructions and hooked it up. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that British cars of the time were positive ground and when I put a cartridge in the player, smoke came out of the defroster vents. It was the first step in a long learning process.

When the upstate New York weather turned cold, I found out that the heater didn’t work very well. Actually, it didn’t work at all. I brought the car home one weekend, and my dad and I tried to figure it out. It didn’t take long. Someone had removed the heater core and fan. A trip to the junk yard and a few hours of work sorted that out, although even after the installation was completed you could hardly notice if the heater was on or not. With our trusty Clymer manual at hand, we learned how to do oil changes, brakes, tune-ups, and even a complete engine overhaul when the main bearings finally gave out.

The Sprite’s last gasp was on a trip back from visiting my brother in Vermont. The wind got a hold of my top and ripped it in half. I was 350 miles away from home and had to drive it back in the rain with a towel and a pith helmet over my head, all while wiping the rain off the inside of the windshield. You’d be amazed at the looks you get on the New York State Thruway when you’re dressed like that. I sold the Sprite and replaced it with a considerably less troublesome Triumph TR-4A, with my dad helping me to keep that running, too.

Fast forward a few years and my father asked me to join him at an address not too far from his house. I assumed he wanted me to help him with his job, and when I arrived there was a stunning red 1971 MG B in the driveway. He asked me what I thought of it. I said it was really nice, but why was he asking? He looked at me like the idiot I was and said, “What makes you think that all those years I was helping you with your cars I didn’t want a sports car of my own? I couldn’t afford it then because I had to put you through college and law school. Now it’s my turn.”

He and my mother loved that car, and I later gave him my Porsche 914 for a more weather-resistant driving experience. It was followed by a host of others, most notably, his last car, a double-black 1967 Chevrolet El Camino with a 327 and a console-shift automatic. We went to many car shows together, he with his El Camino and me in one of a series of Porsches. Those were magical times for us. My dad has been gone for many years now, but every time I break out the tools he left me – to work on the latest project car – the memories come back to me, and I smile.

[If you’d like to share your own stories of automotive adventures, hijinks, and collecting for Reminiscing, email us at editorial@hemmings.com. The more pictures to help tell the stories, the better.]

While its Carrozzeria Zagato coachwork doesn’t share the sinewy curves of racing and roadgoing Maseratis of the 1950s and 1960s, the Biturbo-based Spyder ’90 has crisply concise lines with a modern-classic appeal all their own. This executive express was made even more stylish by trading the fixed steel roof of its 222SE counterpart for a folding cloth top, and it carried none of the “more expensive LeBaron” baggage of the contemporary Chrysler’s TC by Maserati.

Late-production examples like this 1990 Spyder ’90 enjoyed notable improvements over earlier models that included a larger 2.8-liter, 225-hp V-6 with water-cooled twin turbochargers, 15 x 7-inch alloy wheels, redesigned bumpers, and additional body-color trimmings. This Rosso Red over Grigio car is equipped with the optional ZF four-speed automatic transmission and slender, European-spec bumpers.

The seller notes:

The cabin features electrically controlled reclining sport bucket seats upholstered in gray leather with sueded side bolsters. Complimentary Alcantara extends to the dashboard, center console, and door panels. Burled Elm high gloss wood trim compliments the shift knob, parking brake handle, dash, and door panels. Amenities include a Maserati-branded 24 carat gold clock, automatic climate control, a Kenwood AM/FM/CD stereo, and power windows, mirrors, and door locks.

In 1994 there was a right front end collision. The car was sold to the insurance company. The insurance company sold it unrepaired. In 1996 the owner started the repairs then ended up selling it to a body shop owner. A new right front fender, hood, radiator, AC condenser, radiator cooling fans, intercoolers, tie rod and European spec bumpers were ordered and shipped directly from Italy. The car exterior was completely sanded in preparation for a very high-quality exterior paint application matching the original factory color. Additionally- a factory improved fuse box, upgraded hood insulation, oil pan protector plate, and Nardi wood steering wheel were installed.

There has been no paint chipping or required touchups since then. There are no scratches penetrating the paint showing the primer or the metal. All exterior stainless-steel trim still shows a deep shine.

This Spyder was entered in many car shows and won a Blue-Ribbon Award at the 2002 Detroit Concours show. This car is driven regularly, including over 400 miles in the past month. It is not a show car now- but not far off.

See more Maseratis for sale on Hemmings.com.

Date: 1977

Location: Baltimore, Maryland

Source: Jack E. Boucher, via Historic American Engineering Record / Library of Congress

What do you see here?

The easiest collector cars in the world to own are those you can get the most parts for. You can probably name a lot of them: the ’55-’57 Chevy, the early Mustang, the first-generation Camaro, the Triumph TR6, the MGB, and so on. As grows the hobby, so does that list (as do the criteria for being on it—which now includes complete reproduction steel bodies), but since the beginning, included the 1928-’31 Ford Model A.

The complete history of the Model A as a sensational new car – including its proven durability during the worst of conditions of the Great Depression and World War II, and its popularity as a simple and easily improved used car in the shortage-wracked postwar period – is too detailed to get into here, but suffice it to say that the historical popularity of the A translates to an extremely robust and complete aftermarket still supporting these cars on the eve of their centennial. Even in as-delivered form, the Ford Model A remains an eminently driveable car—married with some improvements developed when it was nearly new, it can traverse virtually any 21st century road with ease.

There are plenty of opportunities to do so, too. Two clubs serve the Model A hobby specifically: The Ford Model A Restorers Club (MARC) and the Model A Ford Club of America (MAFCA). They maintain technical libraries, advisors, and most importantly, communities of enthusiasts with whom to trade ideas, tribal knowledge, parts, and information. Both organizations are variously tolerant of modifications pioneered in the A’s earliest days as a used car, especially when the appearance is kept stock or made to resemble a period speedster or race car.

While the A started out relatively simple, buyers carried over their accessorization habits from the Model T. Note the running-board luggage rack on the car above and the Moto-Meter temperature gauges on both. Welled fenders were a factory contribution to this craze.Courtesy of the Hemmings archives

Many of those changes blend seamlessly into a road-ready car, ideal for participating in tours like those organized by MARC, MAFCA, and the local chapters thereof, plus multi-marque events run by other organizations. Moreover, unless you live in a really congested area, a touring-grade Model A makes a great fair-weather driver for any purpose —assuming your insurance provider and licensing authority agree.

Speedsters and more heavily modified cars will find themselves welcome at other sorts of events, including hill climbs and traditional hot rod gatherings like The Race of Gentlemen. Beware, though: Beyond a certain point, the more heavily modified the engine, the more temperamental it becomes and the shorter its lifespan.

The standard Ford closed body for all years of production was the two-door sedan (spelled Tudor by Ford, to complement its naming the four-door sedans Fordor). It also proved the most popular in original production, with 523,922 built in calendar-year 1929 alone (Ford didn’t track body-style production by model year) and 1,281,112 by the end of ’31 production in early 1932. Most in-demand today are the roadster and coupe bodies. The former is reproduced, and though repair panels are obtainable, no complete closed Model A body is. A late-1928 to 1931 Tudor makes perhaps the ideal Model A owner’s car for a variety of reasons, not least of which is the prospect of extra leg room in the front seats, attractive price point in the current market, and an all-steel body (compared with the wood-framed Fordors, built by outside suppliers). It’s on that specific model that we’ll focus here.

Engine and drivetrain

While it’s a flathead four-cylinder, and parts from the Model A engine have been made to work in the Model T block, there’s not much in common between the 177-cu.in. Model T engine and the 1928-’31 Model A engine, which displaced 200 cu.in. and made 40 hp at 2,200 rpm —twice the T’s 20 hp at 1,600 rpm. Famously, one reason the Model A is often seen wearing a quail radiator mascot is because its abrupt acceleration reminded operators of that bird bursting forth from the underbrush. The four-cylinder retained its reputation for quick starts right up through the V-8 era, when owners of “bangers” preferred to race from a standing or low-speed rolling start (the origin of the drag race) against V-8 owners. The V-8’s longer-legged nature was reflected in the popularity of the greyhound mascot on ’32-’34 Fords.

In its stock form with a heavy flywheel, the Model A engine remains a roadable unit, though it’s hard for most owners of driven cars to resist internal improvements when rebuild time comes along. Upgrades to the oiling system are popular, as are counterweighted Model B crankshafts (which permit a lightened flywheel and installation of a later clutch). Replacement of the poured bearings with modern-type inserts are frequently discussed, but probably overkill on anything but an engine regularly driven hard.

Top-end modifications, including additional carburetors (both stock-style updraft and later-style downdraft), high-compression (this is relative —stock used a 4.22:1 ratio) cylinder heads, high-performance camshafts, and free-flowing exhaust manifolds all exist and are of varying utility depending on the owner’s intended use of a Model A. Some more compression (Ford itself offered a Police head, though aftermarket heads usually boasted a superior chamber design and more compression yet—anything in excess of 6.5:1 is not advised with poured bearings), a distributor incorporating centrifugal advance (stock units are driver-adjusted from the steering wheel—not a situation favored by every modern driver), a Model B-grind camshaft, a downdraft two-barrel carburetor (Stromberg types being a good compromise between period tech, flexibility, and present-day parts availability), and a cast-iron exhaust manifold will give a healthy enough boost to any engine that you may wish to look into some of the brake upgrades discussed below.

Some A owners have gone even further than modifying the factory engine, yet without straying all the way into V-8 territory. More than one Model A has received, complete, the 50-hp four-cylinder engine originally found in a 1932-’34 Ford Model B. Aside from an external fuel pump, the Model B block looks very much like the Model A, yet it hosts oiling improvements and a counterbalanced crankshaft. Opinions diverge on whether the earliest 1932s had the balanced crank, but the real split in desirability seems to stem from Ford’s switch from sweated-on to cast-in counterweights, the latter of which aid immensely in rebuilding.

The Model B engine was originally packaged with a heavily revised transmission. The original Model A unit was scaled down from the big Lincoln transmission in use in the late 1920s — complete with multi-plate clutch. That clutch was soon replaced with a conventional disc unit, but the heavy flywheel and unsynchronized gears remained. When synchromesh was introduced to the marketplace, however, the consumer wouldn’t long stand for the necessity of double-clutching, and lighter flywheels had the added benefit of letting an engine gain rpm faster—though to the detriment of shifting unsynchronized transmissions.

For 1932, the Model B transmission was essentially that of the V-8 car, but in a gear case designed to work with the four-cylinder. In fact, gearsets from Ford passenger cars up through 1948 will fit in the Model B case, though it’s tight. Because the Model A bellhousing also mounts its pedals, many B-powered A’s will have been modified to accommodate the Model A oil pan, bellhousing, and transmission. Alternately, a variety of schemes have been worked up to use Model A pedals with later transmissions, including swaps intended for the Borg-Warner T-5 five-speed, the Ford SROD four-speed, and the 1932-’39 Ford V-8 three-speed.

Transmission choice complicates the rest of the driveline, as Ford cars built through 1948 had their driveshaft enclosed in a suspension member called the torque tube. The Model A axle, though theoretically not as strong as the V-8 units of 1933-’48, will mate with the later Ford transmission without modification to either. Adapters to fit the SROD and certain models of T-5 to the torque tube have been offered, and some enthusiasts choose to switch to an open driveline. That latter option is complicated, however, because the radius rods alone were not designed to deal with the braking and acceleration forces of the rear axle.

The Model A came with a standard gearing of 3.78:1 while V-8-era Ford axles were typically 4.11:1, so swaps to later rear axles are possible but rarely performed unless seeking added strength during a V-8 swap.

Body and chassis

The Model A frame changed very little in over four years of production. Early on (over the first half of 1928), the braking system changed to separate the service brakes from the parking/ emergency brake, which left evidence not only in frame changes but in modifications to the splash aprons and the wheels. When a taller radiator on the 1930 models appeared, that required some changes as well, but in 96 years, necessity has resulted in the invention of ways to make things work together. In other words, don’t despair if you find evidence your 1929 was rebuilt sometime with a 1931 frame —as long as it was done right, it should be fine.

If a frame is out of whack, the simple, ladder design is easily straightened and repaired. Aftermarket frames, frame rails, and crossmembers exist, but they are aimed almost exclusively at the street rod part of the hobby— one exception being reproductions of the oft-mangled front frame horns. Stock or lightly period-modified cars usually stick with Ford pieces. Frame-up restorations aren’t as common for Model A’s as they once were, but should you find yourself with a car apart for some reason and are contemplating the aforementioned conversion to a V-8 transmission, drop-in crossmembers replicating modified 1932 Ford parts exist to accommodate both transmission and pedal mounts.

Modifications to the Model A braking system are hotly debated. The original four-wheel mechanical-drum system was a vast improvement over the Model T’s transmission brake acting only on the rear wheels, but even Ford saw fit to improve the system a few times before converting to hydraulic brakes for the 1939 model year—perhaps most notably in a switch from stamped-steel to cast-iron drums in the course of Model A production. From a performance standpoint, hydraulic drum brakes of the 1939-’48 Ford Lockheed design (or the 1936-’49 Chevrolet Houk design, for that matter) offer no improvement over properly adjusted mechanical drums of equivalent size and acting on an equivalent contact patch.

Mechanical brakes are, however, far fiddlier to adjust than hydraulic systems and the modern hobbyist often doesn’t take much joy in that task. Luckily, neither did the 1940s DIYer, so the engineering of putting ’40-’48 Ford brakes on a 1928-’31 Ford was worked out long ago. Better yet, because those brakes are widespread in the traditional hot-rodding scene and the V-8 restoration scene, all the parts from backing plates and drums to wheel cylinders and shoes are available brand new.

On the flip side, if you’re evaluating a car that someone put “juice” brakes on years ago and it has been sitting, watch out. Mechanical brakes don’t go bad from lack of use, but hydraulics do!

If you’re looking for extra braking ability, aftermarket kits for fitting reproduction 1940s Lincoln self-energizing hydraulic brakes are available, as are modern linings and “floaters” for improving the friction and shoe contact in the stock mechanical system.

The braking system on a Model A has consequences where wheels and tires are concerned. The very early 1928 cars had brake drums and wheels unique to themselves. Thereafter, and through 1935, Ford mechanical brake drums had supports for the wire wheels incorporated into the face. Ford hydraulic brake drums from 1940-’48 had the same 5 on 5.5-inch bolt pattern, but lacked wheel supports. Add-on supports are advisable when running 1928-’35 wires on later hydraulic drums. Likewise, later Ford steel wheels don’t seat properly on the early drums.

Because of the commonality in bolt patterns, images in the ’30s and ’40s frequently show otherwise-stock A’s running around on 18-, 17-, and especially 16-inch wire-spoke wheels from later Fords. Even when the Model A was brand new, aftermarket wheels were a common accessory and popular for their ability to provide oversized tires with a greater cushioning effect.

Suspension

Often derided as “buggy sprung,” the transverse-leaf Ford suspension was simply a different approach from most of the industry, which preferred parallel leaves by that point. Because the basic system was used by Ford from 1909 to 1948, it became very refined. Because 1909-’48 parts underpinned most of American motorsport through the late 1950s, a lot of thinkers after Ford’s engineering staff have also worked on improving it.

As a road car, the well-maintained, in-spec Model A is fine unchanged. Roads today are generally much better than those of the early 1930s, so even a stock A can run up near its potential top speeds a lot of the time. The inclusion of a wheelbase of over 3.5 inches more than the Model T, plus hydraulic shock absorbers on all four wheels, meant that the A feels a lot more stable at higher speeds than its immediate predecessor. Still, there are sympathetic improvements to be made here based on later practice.

The Houdaille lever-action shock absorbers, if in good shape, should give fine service. Often, however, previous owners of even ostensibly “stock” driver-quality cars have discarded worn-out lever shocks for tube shocks. Ford itself made that change part way through 1947, and it’s a functional system that actually dates back to the 1930s on some non-Ford cars like Nash and Chrysler products, so “airplane shocks” are period tech that improve, rather than compromise handling if otherwise properly matched to the chassis.

Going further, without entirely departing from period practice, the Model A steering gear’s somewhat crude design was improved upon by 1937. Ford didn’t produce an easily interchangeable steering box until 1948 —though certain Nash and Hudson boxes from the ’30s were workable swaps as well. Today, aftermarket suppliers offer F-100 pickup-style steering that bolts right into an unmodified Model A and even contains provisions for the headlamp, horn, spark, and throttle controls. Like the synchronized three-speed from a V-8 Ford, the swap to a later steering box is said to turn a nice-driving little car into a great-driving one without sacrificing the essential experience of operating a vintage machine.

Interior

The standard, five-passenger interior for all four years of production was covered in cloth rather than leatherette like the open cars. Shades varied from year to year, and carpets were replaced with rubber flooring sometime late in 1928. The oval-speedometer instrument panel of 1928-’29 was replaced for 1930-’31 by one with a round speedo. Accessory gauges —and panels to mount them like the dramatic Aristocrat panel made by Dunn Manufacturing Company in Clarinda, Iowa, which added spots for two additional instruments —have been popular additions since new and a set of refinished vintage pieces add utility to the simple Model A cockpit. Since the demise of famed supplier LeBaron Bonney, the Cartouche brand (owned by Mac’s and thus by Eckler’s) has seemingly become the go-to supplier for Model A interiors, though smaller operations like Classtique Upholstery in Lindstrom, Minnesota, haven’t gone anywhere either.

In conclusion

The Model A walked the line perfectly as a new car: inexpensive but not austere; simple but not grimly utilitarian. Those virtues make it a great car to own today. It’s capable, easily worked on, easily obtained, and above all—fun.

The Tudor sedan is perhaps the most essential of all Model A’s. Their initial popularity means they’re easy to find today and their comparatively sensible nature when compared to the glamorous roadsters, phaetons, and coupes mean that they’re not suffering from an overheated market due to competition from hot rodders.

If you’ve ever contemplated owning a pre-World War II car, it’s hard to recommend anything more highly than a Ford Model A Tudor.

How much do Ford Model A parts cost?

Hood: $550

Plain front fender: $525

Welled front fender: $675

1930 running boards and splash aprons: $430/pr

Rear fenders: $800/pr

Cylinder head (new, 5.5:1 compression): $359

Generator-look 6V, pos.-ground alternator: $328

Hydraulic brake conversion kit: $3,560

Lincoln self-energizing brakes w/o drums (front): $425

Lincoln self-energizing brakes w/o drums (rear): $575

Lincoln brake drums: $160 (ea)

F-100 steering box conversion: $1,095

Adapter for Ford V-8 transmission: $679

1932-style transmission crossmember: $599

Wheel spacers for hydraulic drums: $75/set of 4

Reproduction 19- or 21-inch wire wheel: $625 (ea)

Firestone 4.50-21 tire: $245

Firestone 4.75-19 tire: $249

Cast-iron exhaust header: $395

Single downdraft intake manifold: $225

What should I pay for a Ford Model A?

1928: Low-$9,500; Average-$13,500; High-$22,500

1929: Low-$9,975; Average-$13,650; High-$21,000

1930: Low-$9,500; Average-$13,000; High-$20,500

1930 De Luxe: Low-$9,975; Average-$13,650; High-$21,525

1931: Low-$9,000; Average-$12,500; High-$20,000

1931 De Luxe: Low-$9,450; Average-$13,125; High-$21,000

Who sells Ford Model A parts?

Bratton’s Antique Auto Parts • 800-255-1929 • brattons.com

Brookville Roadster • 937-833-4605 • brookvilleroadster.com

Classtique Upholstery • 800-208-9032 • classtiqueupholstery.com

Cling’s Aftermarket Products, Inc. • 480-777-1202 • clingsaftermarket.com

C.W. Moss • 800-322-1932 • cwmoss.com Early

Ford Store of California • 909-305-1955 • earlyfordstore.com

Gaslight Auto • 800-242-6491 • gaslightauto.com

Hot Rod Works • 208-455-7971 • hotrodworks.com

Mac’s Antique Auto Parts • 800-284-3906 • macsautoparts.com

Mike’s “A” Fordable • 888-879-6453 • mikes-afordable.com

Rootlieb, Inc. • 209-632-2203 • rootlieb.com

Snyder’s Antique Auto Parts • 888-262-5712 • snydersantiqueauto.com

Tam’s Model A Parts • 800-272-7871 • modelaparts.com

Vern Tardel’s Traditional Ford Hot Rod Shop • sales@verntardel.com • verntardel.com