Since sharing with you my first Model A Episode, I’ve chatted with my brother, John, regarding that story and several others we recalled together. John always wins the childhood memory contest, and he is only a year and a-half younger than I! Doesn’t seem fair to me, but I must admit, his help is invaluable when we decide to reminisce about long ago. The story I’ve included herewith is one we experienced as a family and one John, and I continue to enjoy retelling. But first, to boost my credibility, I delved into a bit more Model A Ford research; after all, when talking to Model A experts, I need to have my few facts straight! The more I learn, the more interesting the subject becomes.
So back to the Internet where I discovered some additional Fun Facts:
The A Model was the first Ford to have a standard set of driver controls with a conventional clutch and brake pedals throttle and gearshift.
The A Model was one of the first cars to have safety glass in the windshield
On all Model A’s only passenger doors could be locked.
The passenger side was the safest exit point due to road conditions.
There are two main national organizations: MAFCA and MARC forming the hub for today’s hundreds of local enthusiasts
**All Information above is based on on-line Wikipedia (Ford Model A (1927-1931).
and
https://fordbarn.com https://forums.aaca.org
OUR FAMILY MODEL A
It seems strange to me that I don’t remember any of my family’s friends who drove A Model Fords, but at the same time, I don’t recall it as being unusual that we owned one. We didn’t make long trips, and it performed quite well for the regular road excursions we made maybe twice a year, i.e. visiting the Taylors in Grant Parish and seeing my oldest brother who lived in Rayne, Louisiana. One of my favorite Model A stories and probably the most often retold in our family involved these trips; below I share the first of two that continue to make me smile and step back into another time.
In addition to being one of Mama’s milk, butter and egg customers, Doss Taylor worked with Daddy on the Missouri Pacific Railroad as an engineer. He held an extra special spot in our family as the benefactor enabling us to obtain the house on the hill; his framed photo hung above our living room mantel from the day we moved into that house until Daddy’s death in 1965. The Taylors had no children, at least none I ever knew of—and they seemed to be a rung or two above us on the ladder of success. On occasion, they visited our house, drank coffee, played the fiddle and discussed current events – usually politics. However, it is the visits we made to their Grant Parish home every summer that stand out in my memory today. As the crow flies, they lived about an hour northeast of us; still, it often took us two hours or more and the pictures in my mind remains crystal clear – well, crystal clear with a little help from my brother, John.
“Mama, do you think they’ll have a Black Diamond ready for us?” I asked before we even got into the car.
“I don’t know for sure, but I expect so.”
Daddy interrupted, “Do not ask for anything not offered. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I certainly hoped they had one because I could already taste that watermelon!
On the Friday before such an adventure, Mama prepared some food to take with us to add to whatever Mrs. Taylor had prepared. My favorite menu included a pot of chicken and dumplings, a container of fried chicken or rice pudding. Once the mouth-watering goodies were decreased to good smells floating in the air and were prepared for the transport, Mama would walk down to Mrs. Curry’s for a cup of coffee and a chat; as always, I followed along behind her and took a seat at the table as if I had been invited.
“Is it too late in the day for a cup of coffee?” Mrs. Curry asked.
“Never too late .” Mama laughed. “And I might need it more today than usual. Tomorrow is our trip to the Taylors and just riding in the car can be a challenge and test my blood pressure medication.”
“Whadda mean?”
“Well, you know, John doesn’t always realize he is not the engineer on a train when he is behind the wheel of a car. If he looks to the right, he turns to the right; same thing if he looks left and there are no rails to help him stay in a straight line. Of course, top speed is the only way to go.” They both laughed as Mrs. Curry put on a pot of coffee and they sat down for their regular chit-chat.
I don’t remember anything else about that conversation as my mind had already moved on in anticipation of our holiday-like excitement the next day. From the time we climbed into the car until we crawled out at night, the entire atmosphere approached that of a fantasyland. Before dawn Saturday morning, Daddy sat at the wheel of our Model A, and we were loaded up, three in the backseat and two in the front. Once we, kids, had our assigned spots, Hannah in the middle and John and I each had a window, Mama would hand out some snacks.
“Okay, kids. It’ll take a while to get there. Here’s your treat bags. Make them last.”
These bags typically contained a piece of fruit, a sweet of some sort and a small fruit jar of water or Kool-Aid. John and I immediately began negotiations.
“Johnny, can I have your lifesavers?”
“Why?” he replied. “You have some.”
“But yours are butterscotch, and I like them best.”
“I like butterscotch too.”
Hannah usually stepped in to solve the problem- thus her seat in the middle. “Okay, Olevia, I’m putting all three lifesaver rolls in this bag. We have butterscotch, wild cherry and pineapple. Do you both agree to keep the one you choose?”
We nodded simultaneously.
“Who goes first?”
I raised my hand as if at school in class. “Me! Me! Me!”
“Is that okay with you, John?”
He nodded again. Problem solved and we settled in for a long drive in our A Model Ford, no seatbelts, or -to the best of my memory- no locks on the doors. Passenger safety equipment didn’t appear high on the manufacturer’s goals. I’m guessing the powers that be did not take into consideration drivers such as my dad.
I cannot remember exactly where the Taylors lived within ‘the area of Montgomery’, a town located about forty miles or so straight up Highway 71. My best guess is the road conditions set the travel time, rather than speed limits or Daddy’s driving. About five miles of gravel road separated our house from Highway 71 and included some curves. The first of these, and the tightest, came less than two miles from the end of our driveway. Daddy approached the curve at about twenty miles an hour and, compatible with his normal driving approach, he did not look or turn in the direction of the curve until he completed his comments about the McManemin property located on the other side of the road.
As soon as he realized we were at the curve, he made a sharp turn in the direction of the curve, only to realize another sharp turn was required to avoid landing in the ditch. The three of us in the backseat were thrown about, but Mama held on fast to the passenger door as he righted the car. She let go and it appeared we would survive, unharmed, the first thrill incident of the day … but that curve still had a couple more tricks in its bag. Although Daddy had now slowed our Model A to something he could control, he hit a chuck hole that bounced the vehicle off toward the right-side ditch. The front passenger door opened, and Mama reached to grab it at the same time Daddy again corrected the direction with a quick turn to the left.
We all observed Mama fly out of the car, though later we all thought we saw something a little different. I believed Mama leaned out too far trying to close the door. Hannah settled on Daddy’s lousy driving bumped her from the car. Johnny offered no opinion; his concern was Mama’s condition. Daddy’s unique reaction caught us by surprise and Mama’s response allowed this story to become a favorite to be told many times over. The brakes squealed, almost throwing the backseat occupants into the front seat. We weren’t settled back in our seats yet when Daddy reversed directions and stopped on a dime, had there been one there. He did not get out of the car but leaned toward the open door to yell.
“Mary, what’d you get out for?”
“I don’t know, John,” she replied in a tone that didn’t imply she had crawled out of the ditch. Mama stood, dusting herself off and looking no worse for the wear.
“Well, you’d better get back in, or we’re going to be late getting up to Doss’. I’d like to be there by ten.”
Mama climbed up the slope. She straightened her dress and returned to the front seat. “I’m ready. When we get on the highway, John, remember the speed limit is fifty.”
“Don’t worry, Mary.” He chuckled. “I’ll do my best to make it.”
At the time, it didn’t seem strange how amazingly calm Mama remained. In retrospect, I’m impressed with her unwillingness to ruin a special day for all of us to focus on herself. We kids remained quiet in hopes of preserving the party atmosphere. The festive mood quickly returned, and Daddy continued to drive with abandon and made every effort to avoid being passed by anyone or anything.
This two-hour trip could be made today in less than an hour but would not be nearly as interesting or as fun as one made in an A Model Ford driven by my dad.
Ann MullenMartin
September 30, 2025
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