My Dad's little Model A Ford!

As a young boy growing up in rural Arkansas in the late 30's, 40's and 50's, you didn't have a lot of material possessions that you could brag about, but I had one thing that I was so proud of. The 1929 Model A Ford that my Daddy bought in the early 1940,s. I know my family was proud of this car, because I far as I can remember, it was the only car my Daddy ever owned. I so loved this car that anywhere my daddy went with this car I expected to go too. My Dad, who was known to take a few drinks, used to take me with him when he went to see the "Bootleggers" of that time. I was so small that he had to take diapers and change me in the car seat. I would always cry if he tried to leave the house without me, so mom would get me ready and he would take me along. He always thought that I just wanted to go with him, but really it was the car.

Mom, also, must have proud of that car and wanted to learn to drive so bad. My dad wouldn't teach her, so when he was at work, she decided to try her hand at driving. She got the car out and was driving around in the yard and was so proud of herself, until she ran into the side of the house and torn off several siding boards. She managed to get the car reparked and got hammer and nails and repaired the side of the house and sweeped out all the tire tracks before dad got home.

I remember one time that dad gone to town in the car and was gone most of the day and had a few drinks. There was a large wooden gate in the front of our house and was kept closed and had to be opened to enter. I heard my dad coming in the model A Ford and he was driving real fast. Thinking he was in a real hurry, I ran down to open the gate so he could enter. My mom could tell from his driving that he was drunk and started running for the gate. I was standing beside the gate holding it open when she grabbed me and got out of the way, when dad turned in and knocked down the gates and never stopped until he got to the house. A little while after that, dad came home from town in the wrong car. It was just like our car and was parked where dad usually parked and the keys fit so he drove it home. Mom managed to get the car back to town and picked up our car. Needles to say, Dad's little Model A Ford was sold shortly after