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Edsel Ford, 21 years of age, set out from Detroit with six friends in a new Ford touring car, a Stutz, and a Cadillac. They were on their way to California to visit the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exposition world’s fair in San Francisco. They were not alone in undertaking such an adventure, and they were not the first. By the time Henry Ford’s son and his young friends headed west, travel by automobile was a well established pastime. One source estimates that 25,000 cars made the trip to visit that world’s fair, though it’s unlikely that many of them covered the 2400 miles traveled by Edsel and friends.

In the 100+ years since that 1915 trip, long distance car trips have become commonplace. But the number of people making long trips by Model T has shrunk to just a few.There are many thousands of tin Lizzies still running, but most are never driven more than a few miles from home. Many go on tours, but most of those go to the tour by trailer and go home the same way. This is understandable, because going anywhere by Model T takes at least twice as long as going by modern car. If you’re tied down by work or school, the only time you can spend on a trip of more than a day or two is during a vacation. But if you’re retired or otherwise privileged to enjoy the necessary free time, the open road beckons. All you need is a Model T in good shape for traveling, and a few other things.
 
The first of those other things is frame of mind, or attitude. ”Whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.” ~ Henry Ford
On Memorial Day weekend in 2016 one of the Kansas Model T clubs had a game day near McPherson, about 125 miles north of my place. I had never driven my 1915 runabout more than ten miles from home, but I decided to give it a go. I left home that Saturday morning, as soon as there was enough light to see. As I drove up the county road a few miles from home, the sun was peeking over the horizon in the east, and I noticed that I had a super tight grip on the steering wheel and was feeling tense. I reminded myself that the car was in good shape and was getting along nicely, and made a conscious effort to relax. A few miles farther on I repeated the experience — tense, tight grip, relax — and did so a few more times. I was within a few miles of my destination when I got onto a road I should have skipped. Recent heavy rains had made it a muddy mess. I should have low-pedaled it, but I was afraid I’d bog down and get stuck if I went too slow. It turned out that high gear was the wrong choice. The rain had washed a sandbar across the road, and when I hit that it steered me into the ditch. The car came to a stop leaning into the branches of a downed tree, breaking the main top socket on the right side of the car. I got on the phone and called for help, and a couple of nearby club members came and helped me get the car back on the road and moving. I low-pedaled about a quarter mile until I was back on solid ground, and drove the remaining few miles to my destination. After a few hours of Model T fun and games, at three o’clock I headed home. The drive was uneventful. As I pulled into my driveway about 7:30 that evening the orange sun was sinking behind the hedge trees to the west. I was totally relaxed. A year later there was another game day. I drove the 125 miles there and the 125 miles home with no trouble. I was getting used to driving more than a few miles from home, and I was enjoying it.

That fall I drove modern to Dearborn for my first Old Car Festival. It was a wonderful event, and I determined that the next time I came it would be with an old car. Spring brought another Model T Memorial Day weekend. This time it was a tour based in Concordia, abut 200 miles north. I was halfway through the process of installing a new top on the car, but the forecast showed virtually no chance of rain, so I went. On the way north I had my first flat tire on a long trip. A man who lived nearby was driving by and stopped to offer help, so we took the wheel to his place and blew up the new tube with his compressor. Not having to use the little foot pump saved me some time.

High gear was a poor choice on this road

With the chances of rain on the Concordia tour being slim to none,
the unfinished top was no problem.
And here I will interrupt the historical narrative with some important practical advice. If you plan to do any long distance Model T travel, be prepared to deal with flats. Carry at least one new tube for each size tire you have. For earlier Model T’s, that means a front tube and a rear tube. Between trips you can store them inflated enough to keep their shape, then roll them up when you pack them for traveling. Because of experiences I'll describe later, I now carry a spare front tire and a spare rear tire, both with tubes inside them, inflated just enough to stay in place.You should carry a jack, a 2 x 6 or 2 x 8 block to put under the jack if necessary, and a couple of blocks to keep the car from rolling. I’ve found the standard Model T screw jack quite adequate. Archimedes tells us that long tire irons give you more leverage than short ones, so I carry three two-footers. A tube patch kit is a good idea. If you’ve had a flat and installed a spare tube, and that one happens to pick up a nail, you want that kit. All the other tire tools are useless if you don’t have some tire inflating device. I used a bicycle foot pump until it failed. It didn’t stop working altogether, but wouldn’t produce the pressure needed for clincher tires. If you’re running twelve volts, there are dozens of small compressors on the market. If you’re running six volts or no battery at all it’s another story. Then you want something non electric. Guess what. An old Model T era hand pump in good condition will do the job just fine. It worked a hundred years ago and it works now. You may have to stop pumping and rest occasionally on your way to 70 psi, but it will get you there.

OK, back to the narrative. With a spare tube installed, I continued northward. After awhile the car got weak and struggled on hills. The reason was that it was running on three cylinders because a spark plug had failed. Replacing the bad plug, I drove on to Concordia with no further troubles. As I would be camping in the city park for more than one night, I brought a tent to hold my place. The tour was interesting and fun, and on the last day I headed home. There was not a hint of trouble until I was about thirty miles from home. I was crossing a bridge when suddenly I heard the sound of a bare rim on pavement. I had blown a tire. On the trip north the left rear tube had failed, and now on the return trip south the right rear tire was gone. I suspect that was also because of a failed tube. I later learned that there was a run of Custom Classic tubes that were prone to splitting, and apparently I had gotten some of those when I bought tubes. I walked along both sides of the road looking for the tire. I never found it, and not having a spare tire I phoned my cousin to come and fetch me. The next day we came back with another rear wheel that had a tire on it and I drove the car home.

Undeterred by my tire adventures, I applied to attend the Old Car Festival and was delighted when my car was accepted. But as the time to depart drew near I was having misgivings about driving hundreds of miles by myself in a car over a hundred years old. I told Mike Bender about my apprehension, and he reminded me that wherever you go in this country there are likely to be Model T people not far away.
Bolstered by those words of encouragement, on September 2, 2018, I headed east on my big adventure. The first day was smooth sailing, and I arrived in Marshfield, Missouri, at sundown. I bedded down there as I usually do, in a sleeping bag on a foam mat on a tarp. Some folks are appalled by the prospect of sleeping on the ground, but I’ve been camping since 1946 that I remember, and maybe before that when I was too young to remember it. I will take a motel room, but very rarely.

I like to arrive in Detroit a day early to allow plenty of time for a visit to Piquette,
home of the Model T.

The second day I stopped at Lake Ozark for a lunch time visit with fellow Model T aficionado George Clipner. When we left a local cafe to go to George’s house, my car didn’t want to start on battery, and it took a push to get it running on magneto. At George’s house we did an oil change and discovered the reason for the starting trouble. The battery wire had come loose from the terminal on the coil box. With the wire reattached the car started normally and I was on my way. On a subsequent trip the problem of wires working loose from coil box terminals has recurred, so I’ve installed toothed lock washers to keep the nuts in place.

I proceeded through Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, and into Michigan, and arrived in the Detroit area a day before the OCF so I had time to visit the old Piquette Avenue Ford Plant, which I recommend highly. The OCF on Saturday and Sunday was a delight, with much cruising the village streets in hundred-year-old traffic, experiencing some of the historical displays, and visiting with friends.
The 2018 Old Car Festival incuded four rare Model K Fords cruisng about the streets of Greenfield Village.

Following the OCF I headed west. I stopped at the Gilmore car museum to see the fabulous collection of antique and classic autos, then south and west around Lake Michigan, and north through Chicago. I was born and raised in the Los Angeles area, so big city traffic doesn’t scare me. But it does get tiresome when it becomes several miles of stop and crawl. I chose Harlem Avenue because it's a state highway, but it’s a highway in name only. In reality it turned out to be mile after mile of bog-down, so if I go through the Third City again it will be by a different route.

North of Chicago I reached Antioch at sundown and stopped there for the night. The next day as I drove north through Wisconsin I noticed an engine knock. The farther I went the more pronounced the knock became, and by the timeI got to Stevens Point that evening it was loud enough to have me worried about it.

In the morning I took my cousin Elizabeth for a ride and had her use my camera to shoot some video to capture the sound. I posted two minutes of video online, and put a link to it on the Model T forum. It didn’t take long for Adam Doleshal to say it sounded like a rod going south, and I should bring the car to him. Soon after that, Joe Reid, who lives near Stevens Point, offered to haul the car to Adam’s shop. Mike Bender’s prediction that there was likely to be help nearby if I had trouble turned out to be on the mark.

On Monday morning Joe brought his trailer, and we hauled the car to Adam’s shop. We unloaded the car and Adam took it for a short test drive which confirmed for him that the ominous sound was indeed a knocking rod. The rest of that day and in the morning he worked on then car, installing a new rod. By Tuesday afternoon the work was done, but Adam cautioned me that I should keep my speed down for the rest of the trip because the crankshaft was worn out of round and should be replaced.

So as I headed west I kept my speed down to about 20 mph for the first hundred miles, and no more than 30 mph the rest of the way home. In Iowa I stopped to visit Dean Yoder, one of the world’s leading long distance Model T drivers. My other Iowa stops were at Birdhaven Vintage Auto Supply near Colfax, then at Knoxville for an auction where I was delighted to find some replacement bulbs for my magneto headlights. From there I drove south through Missouri to Kansas City for a visit with more cousins, and then from KC on home.

Between that OCF trip and the next one my engine went to Mike Bender’s shop for repairs that included a new SCAT crankshaft.
The Gilmore is a must-see for fans of antique and classic cars.

I was lucky to find this emergency fix
for a stripped perch nut.


In 2019 I made my second Old Car Festival trip by Model T. All was well until I was driving up US 231 toward Lafayette IN and hit a dip that almost put me through the top. The next day I was at an auction of Model T parts and somebody asked me what had happened to the front of my car. I didn’t know anything was wrong, because it had been driving normally. When I went and looked I found a right front shackle broken and the end of the spring resting on top of the axle. It was great good luck that I was at a sale of Model T parts. One of the guys donated a replacement shackle and a couple of the fellows helped me install it. But the broken shackle wasn’t the only damage that dip had done. The perch nut was stripped and wouldn’t tighten all the way. Stroke of good luck #2 was that the nut hadn’t fallen off. When that happens the wishbone drops, the steering goes sideways and locks, and you hit the ditch. The very unlikely third stroke of good luck was that one of the guys came up with a pair of accessory wishbone clamps made for exactly that situation. I now carry those clamps and a couple of spare shackles in the car when I travel.

After a stop in Auburn to see the magnificent Auburn/Cord/Duesenberg Museum and its collection of magnificent cars, I drove on to Detroit and enjoyed the Stahl Collection, another visit to Piquette, and another weekend of fun at the OCF.


A must-see in northern Indiana is the ACD Museum in Auburn.


A flat in Michigan taught me I needed something better than this bike foot pump.
For a broken windshield frame, a farm supply in Illinois provided a baling wire support.
The Lincoln tomb in Oak Grove Cemetery, Springfield

The trip home included three more events. In Michigan I was grounded by a flat tire just west of Mottville. This shouldn’t have been much of a delay if my foot pump hadn’t failed. I couldn’t get more than 40 psi out of it, which we all know is totally inadequate for a clincher tire. Once again, the kindness of strangers came to the rescue. A local man driving by stopped to see what was up. He went home, a mile up the road, and brought back a tank of air. Soon I was on the road again, stopping in south Bend to see the Studebaker Museum.

Event Two was the culmination of a failure long in coming. For many years, unseen from the outside, rust inside the windshield frame had been weakening the upright on the right side. Blasts of air from big trucks passing in the opposite direction finally broke the weakened upright, and of course cracked the glass. Using the traditional universal Ford repair kit (baling wire) from a farm supply store, I improvised a temporary windshield support.

The third special adventure on my way home was in Springfield IL. The middle casting plug developed a leak that let most of the coolant out. Fortunately, although it was loose it didn’t fall out and get lost. I dried it, applied new sealant, and hammered it back in. It has been fine ever since. At Springfield I visited the Lincoln home, the old state capitol, the village of New Salem a few miles north, and the Lincoln tomb in Oak Ridge Cemetery.

After another stop to visit the Kansas City cousins, I arrived home with several repair projects on my agenda. Those included repairing the windshield frame and installing new glass, replacing a top socket that had been rebroken from a previous break (a result of the windshield adventure), and replacing a perch, nut, and shackle.

There was no OCF in 2020, thanks to Covid-19, but in 2021 I was determined to go again. This trip featured three events, one going and two coming home. The event on the way east started in Missouri and ended in Illinois. South of Bowling Green the car lost power on a hill and died in the road. With the engine silent I could hear the seething boil. I let it cool down and dumped in the gallon of water I had with me, and a passerby donated a gallon or two from his cooler. I drove on to the next little town and put in a couple more gallons, and did the same at every other town where I found water. The leak was at the bottom of the top tank where the overflow tube comes out. The water was leaking out around the tube. I got on the phone to my friend George and had him Google radiator repair in Springfield IL. He found two shops. At the first one I called there was no answer, but at the second one I got a live person who gave me directions on how to get there. I arrived at Ellenburg’s Radiator Shop at about 2:00 PM, pulled the radiator off the car, and a guy who looked old enough to know what he was doing went to work on it. I watched him remove the tube, clean everything up, and solder it back in. Yes, he did know what he was doing, and by 5:30 I had the radiator reinstalled and was on my way.


On old 66 in Missouri. The  big trucks and fast traffic are over on I-44, and it's clear sailing for me.


The rest of the drive to Dearborn was event-free. The OCF was a delight as usual until Sunday afternoon. I was feeling dehydrated and went to buy a drink. I set my camera on the counter while I paid for my soda pop, and in my groggy state left it there while I went and sat down, had my drink, and recovered. By the time I remembered my camera and went back for it, it was gone. The thief got not only the camera, but all the pictures of this trip from Springfield on that were on it, so I have no photos of the OCF or the trip home.

Having to get home for a family reunion, I had no time for sightseeing or visiting on the way. After leaving Dearborn I got as far as Clinton before sundown stopped me and I set up camp behind a clump of trees where I was out of sight. The next day I left Michigan and went south through Indiana, arriving at Turkey Run State Park at sundown. The next morning I was soon in Illinois, crossing that prairie state’s wide, flat eastern half. Some people would find a drive like that boring, but on this beautiful September morning, watching mile after mile of corn and soybeans and an occasional distant farm house roll by under a brilliant blue sky punctuated by little puffy white clouds, pulled along at a leisurely 35 mph and listening to the mechanical song of Henry Ford’s humble little 20 hp engine, I reveled in it. I do love Model T travel.

That evening I stopped in Springfield IL again, and the next day crossed the rest of Illinois and proceeded south and west through Missouri. Sundown found me at Lebanon, where I bedded down beside old US 66, now a state highway, which runs alongside I-44 through much of Missouri. A US highway or a former US highway that parallels an interstate is usually great for Model T travel, as most of the traffic is over on the big road.

The next day, west of Springfield MO, I experienced my next event. The farther I went, the rougher the engine ran and the more it lost power, until the car was struggling up hills and slowing to a crawl at the top. Fortunately most of the way across western Missouri is relatively flat. The sun was setting as I limped into Carthage. I pulled into a gas station, left the engine running, and phoned Mike Bender. “Can you hear this?” I asked. “Sounds like it’s running on two or three cylinders,” he replied. Mike drove up from Tulsa with a trailer in case I needed to haul the car, but the spare parts he brought contained the cure for what was ailing my car — a good timer brush to replace the one I had which was worn out.

The next day I should have made it home early in the afternoon, but there was another event. This one was directly my fault. I failed to check tire pressure all around, and about thirty miles from home I was rounding a curve on a gravel road and suddenly heard the sound of a bare rim running on the road. I was prepared for changing a tube, but not for losing a tire. I walked back along both sides of the road a couple of times and never did find where that right front tire went. I phoned my cousin to come and fetch me, and while I waited I searched for that tire three or four more times. I never found it, and we ended up enlisting a friend with a trailer to haul the car home.

Have all these events soured me on travel by Model T? Quite the opposite. They’re part of the adventure, and they make me want to learn the lessons they teach. I’m looking forward to being on the road again for more Model T travel.
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