It has a 20-horsepower four-cylinder engine, tops out at 45 mph, has no gas gauge and sometimes must back up hills. But it’s the most important car ever built. One hundred and ten years after its introduction, the Ford Model T endures as a symbol of American freedom, ingenuity and humble honesty.
“One car did what could only be done once,” said Matt Anderson, curator of transportation at The Henry Ford museum. “It took cars from being playthings of the wealthy to a vehicle for the middle class. It was affordable, but not cheap. People took to it like crazy.”
By representing the workingman’s yearnings to travel with his family and earn a good living, Henry Ford soon became a folk hero by doubling the average wage of his workers with a “$5 Day,” the modernization of manufacturing with the moving assembly line, and good publicity that turned folks into Ford customers. It made the Model T ubiquitous. In 1918-1920, half of the cars in the U.S. were Model T’s.
“People were excited from the very beginning in the fall of 1908,” Anderson said. “It was large enough for a family. People were familiar with Ford quality and it generated a buzz. People thought, ‘Maybe I should get one of these as well.’”
Considering how the modern automobile has evolved into nearly driving itself, why is the Model T still so much in our collective consciousness?
“There were so many of them built — 15 million,” Anderson said. “There are still probably 10,000 to 15,000 on the road. People know ‘Tin Lizzie’ as an old car, even if they don’t know it refers to the Model T. It shows up in literature, film and song. For a lot of collectors, it’s a gateway car. Parts are still plentiful.”
For my family, Model T’s are not just relics of the past. My parents, Rick and Sue Williams of Greentown, Ind., have owned a 1920 Touring for over 40 years. My grandfather bought it as a basket case before passing away unexpectedly. So my grandmother gave it to my father with one condition: Restore it. He did.
It’s much like the prototype created in a walled-off section of Ford’s Piquette Avenue plant in Detroit. Lightweight vanadium steel keeps the car strong and light while transverse springs front/rear provide a compliant ride for low cost. The engine is mounted with three pivot points, allowing the chassis to contort over rough roads.
Upon the Model T’s Oct. 1, 1908, introduction, Henry Ford proclaimed, “I will build a car for the great multitude. It will be large enough for the family, but small enough for the individual to run and care for. But it will be so low in price that no man making a good salary will be unable to own one.”
To realize this vision, Ford ushered in the moving assembly line during 1913. When introduced, a convertible five-passenger touring car cost $850 ($22,471 today). By 1925, prices dropped to $290 ($3,628 — or a down payment for most new cars). Fifteen million Model Ts were birthed by the time production ended in 1927.
Standing on its spindly wheels, next to their brand-new crossover, my parents’ all-black car is clearly from another century, looking as antiquated as Ford’s singular color palette.
You don’t drive a Model T like modern cars. Slide behind the wooden wheel and you’re confronted with three pedals on the floor for clutch, reverse, and brake. There’s a floor lever to the left and two “whiskers” attached to the steering column for throttle and spark. This car has electric start, introduced for 1919. Before that, you hand-cranked. To research this article, Dad and I went for a drive in suburban-to-rural Indiana, as we’ve done many times before.
“Pull the choke and turn the key left for battery,” Dad said. “Move spark all of the way up, throttle one-fourth down. Press the starter. As it starts, put spark all of the way down. Change the fuel mixture under the dash as it warms up.”
It’s quite an experience for a retired autoworker and this journalist, both of whom have experienced many cars over the years. Unlike the smooth silence of modern electronically controlled automobiles, there’s a lot of listening and feeling involved in driving a Model T, adjusting throttle, gas and spark as it shivers awake and whirs away.
“Halfway down with the clutch pedal is neutral,” Dad continued. “All of the way down is low gear. Push down, pull down the throttle.”
There’s no speedometer, but we’re not moving that fast anyway. We easily talk to neighbors working in their yards as we leave the subdivision.
“Lift the clutch to half, shove the floor lever forward, lift off the clutch,” he said. We’re in high gear. “If you’re going down a steep hill, you may need to press the brake and reverse pedals to slow down.”
Braking is more theoretical than actual; pressing the pedal just works bands in the transmission. Better hope it doesn’t rain because it’s a 10-minute exercise to raise the top and clip on side-curtains. Windshield wipers were after-market accessories.
Still, the car is pretty capable, provided there aren’t steep hills. Gasoline is gravity-fed from beneath the front seat, so owners sometimes must go up hills in reverse.
It’s such a visceral experience. The steering wheel shakes in your hand, you bounce in the seats, and the engine alters tune as you change gears and adjust spark. You’re always adjusting something. There’s so much play in the steering that you seemingly move it half a turn before it turns anything. Fred Flintstone had better brakes. I’m still amazed at how much the body twists when you turn onto a driveway ramp.
The Model T has been compared to a mule: It can be a stubborn ass, but is generally pretty charming. How American.
This cantankerous device profoundly changed American life. Before its existence, Americans barely traveled from their birthplace. After, they could go as far as roads would take them. It changed everything, but in 1928 was replaced by the Model A — a superior car possessing a stick shift, four-wheel brakes, and ability to cruise on modern highways.
In his essay “Farewell to Model T”, “Charlotte’s Web” author E. B. White writes, “It was the miracle God had wrought. And it was patently the sort of thing that could only happen once. Mechanically uncanny, it was like nothing that had ever come to the world before.”
For the ultimate Model T celebration, head to Richmond, Ind., this month for the national Model T tour with events kicking off July 8 and concluding July 14.
“For five days, we’ll go on tours around Richmond,” said Jerry Kramer, event organizer. “The longest is 127 miles, the shortest 65 miles. We’ll drive the Model T’s to the Muncie National Model Aviation Museum, Wilbur Wright Birthplace, to Rushville, where there are 5-6 covered bridges, Caldwell Acres for steam engines demonstrations, and Carillon Park in Dayton, Ohio.”
Tour registrations are closed, but on Wednesday evening at 6:30, there will be a parade in Richmond followed by an ice cream social in the Historic Depot District. Attend the Model T Homecoming at the Model T Museum on Saturday. Go to www.mtfca.com for info.
If you’ve always wanted to ride in a Model T, The Henry Ford’s Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Mich., (www.thehenryford.org) operates a dozen meticulously maintained cars.
Casey Williams is a freelance writer.
