The Durable A

A lady was driving serenely past Rochester on the Thruway recently when a state policeman waved her off the road. "But, officer, I couldn't have been speeding," she protested. "My car won't go over 55." Her car was a 1929 Model A Ford. After running his hand along the car's fender and glancing under the running board, the cop replied: "I know that, lady. I'm leaving for Dearborn in my A tomorrow, and I just wanted to see what the competition will be." Both were heading for the annual convention of the Model A Restorers Club, which ended last week. As it turned out, the competition was too stiff for both Mrs. Jack Larson from Union, Conn., and Trooper Melvin Thorpe. On hand were 287 of the world's bestpreserved Model A's. Except for a few of what most competitors scornfully call "stretcher cases" (cars brought by trailer), all of the A's were driven from their home towns, and one had made it from San Diego averaging 16 miles per gallon and hitting 55 miles an hour without any trouble. From the Wastebasket. In this day of rampant obsolescence and inexorable progress, many of the things that people love most dearly are those that they have rescued--either through stubbornness or nostalgia--from history's wastebasket. The Model A is one of them. Of the 4,849,340 A's produced between 1927 and 1932, some 300,000 are still standing, and many run and look as good as--if not better than--new. The successor to the old Model T, the Model A has, in fact, proved the most durable car in the world. For its original price tag of $500, it was a remarkably sophisticated and racy automobile. It came equipped with an electric starter, electric windshield wipers and a virtually foolproof heater. It also reversed the Ford policy of "the choice of any color as long as it was black." It came in colors whose names would make today's automotive palette seem pale indeed--Moleskin Brown, Andalusite Blue, Cigarette Cream, Mulberry Maroon, Chicle Drab. The job of the restorer is to return the car as close to factory condition as possible. Many of the cars are rescued from the junk heap; others are bought from philistines who have put in engines from other cars and replaced original with makeshift parts. To discover how the car once was, restorers thumb through old Ford service booklets, then set out to find the missing parts. Many are found at the restorers' annual swap. A perfectionist who had been looking for five years for a i-in. front-seat adjusting screw picked one up at Dearborn last week for $5. Show Race. Next to their cars, Model A restorers love other Model A re storers more than anything else in the world, and the annual convention is the high point of every year. Restorers admiringly--and enviously--go over every inch of each other's antiques. Flourishing "before" pictures, they try to outdo each other with stories of mileage, speed, and prices offered (top price on record is $6,000 for a two-door Phaeton). But the moment of truth is the judging. After a day's parade through Detroit and on across the border into Windsor, Ont., the owners took their rags and wax and polished up their beauties for the final day. Explains George De Angelis, a co-chairman of the club: "The first round is to separate the men from the boys. A car that has a 6:00 x 16 wheel instead of the original wire wheel--he's out right away." Then the judges get down to finer points. Cars manufactured in 1928 and 1929, for instance, came with nickel-plated brightwork, which requires constant polishing. To save on elbow grease, some owners have chrome-plated their radiator grilles and head lamps. Says De Angelis: "That's O.K. unless it comes down to some real close judging. Then the car with the nickel plate wins." Best of show went to Arland Banning of Des Moines, who owned a 1931 de luxe Phaeton with snap-in isinglass windows. Final event of the meet is a "slow-driving contest." Each contestant drives his car as slowly as possible in high gear without bucking and stalling--which takes perfect tuning of carburetor and ignition. The slowest car wins.

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