Survival in a Model T
The annual Ocean to Ocean Reunion - part 1
Copyright Vladimir Kagan, July 6, 2014
This article is a memorial tribute to my departed friend, Dolph Cramer. who introduced me to Model T Fords back in the seventies. He wanted so desperately to participate in this rally, but sadly, Dolph passed away this January... Last weekend, we finally said goodbye to Dolph at a memorial service in his enchanting garden in South Hampton.
Dolph'd flower filled garden and the arbor where he and his adoring wife Beatty would sit, enjoying an afternoon tea or cocktail
"The Boys" Peter McAllister, Ian Evans, both here from England and David Steinman, who organized the Vermont reunion four years ago. All three drove with Dolph across the country in the Ocean to Ocean Rally in 2009.
The annual Ocean to Ocean rally is a celebration of the 2009 Ocean to Ocean Centennial Road Race from New York to Seattle. As a native New Yorker, Dolph Cramer helped to organize the New York portion of this amazing month-long event.
This year the tour took us through the back-woods of Connecticut. Our week was a roller coaster adventure. I drove over 300 miles in five days and traveled an equal distance in the cab of a tow truck, with my little “Tin Lizzie” riding on the back of flatbed trucks.
The bottom line: I survived… just barely!
Arriving by ferry from Nantucket, we waited over three hours for a tow truck to take us from Hyannis to Foxwoods.
Loading the car onto the Flatbed in Hyannis with the Nantucket ferry in the background
Halfway to Connecticut, we decided the car was self-destructing from the wind and decided to reload it facing backwards
Within minutes of arrival my car stalled as we drove into the parking garage of the Foxwoods Hotel. My heart jumped into my mouth when I found a huge puddle of gasoline under the car… obviously a broken fuel line. We are now three hours late for the tour briefing… all familiar faces had long retired to their rooms, only my faithful friend Ian Evans from England and Willard and Barbara Revaz, who were hosting this event, waited for us. A cheerful welcome was followed by “not to worry, tomorrow someone will come down to help,” and help did arrive at 7 am in the guise of Doug Hauge, a dyed-in-the-wool Model T buff, which means he owns at least a dozen other cars and lives and breathes ‘T’s. Doug is a retired firefighter who has seen his share of horrors in the 20 odd years he’s been on the firing line as a first-responder. He looks tough; a walrus mustache, a muscular six foot plus lank body - but Doug turned out to be a gentle lamb, patient and helpful. He’s a bachelor who lives alone with his rescue dog. Doug brought his 1914 touring car, which he built from scrap parts into a dazzling tomato-red gem. The car has all the bells and whistles commensurate with a tinkerer’s whims. He kept us entertained with anecdotal wisdom including one that I will pass on to you: he will not stay in a hotel or anywhere else above the 7th floor as that is the highest a fire truck’s ladders will reach! (How’s that for inside wisdom!)
Doug, his dog and the Model T
Doug Hauge to the rescue!
He jumped to the rescue and slithered under the car. Within minutes he determined that it was not serious; only a stuck float-ball in the carburetor which was dislocated while bouncing along on the trip from Hyannis. A magical hit with a small mallet dislodged it and we were happily on our way. With Doug’s assurance that all was O.K., I gingery embarked on the longest drive of the weeklong rally; 150 miles round trip to Bradley International Airport and the nearby Aviation museum. Obviously a must for any red-blooded airplane fan.
Turns out that Doug needed a map-reader and Chris Eitel, my wingman, was volunteered for the job. I inherited my friend Ian as my navigator … and so we set out on our first day’s adventure. For me, transitioning from a five mile a day driver to doing 150 miles took a bit of going, but as we got going, the going got easier and I fell into the rhythm of acrobatic driving - using both hands and feet to manipulate the car. (No use in telling you how these cars function… unless you are a “T” driver, you wouldn't understand.)
Chris at the controls of a WW-2 fighter
The aviation museum was a huge success and I survived the first day with flying colors!
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To navigate the back roads of Connecticut, you need a route-finder to read the intricate turn-by-turn driving instructions prepared for us by our hosts Bob Osborn and Will Revas. When your navigator is not calling out directions and obstacles, he becomes the cheerful tour guide drawing your attention to the dazzling sights on the left and right as we merrily bounce along. There are little hamlets scattered down the road with unrecognizable names, which were settled back in the 18th century and now are home to fewer than a dozen families. There are railroad crossings without gates or warning lights and you wonder when the last train crossed there. There are brooks and streams that feed into the Connecticut River… each with its Indian name… there is the occasional “whroom” of a motorcycle barreling down the road or overtaking from behind. The road is mostly empty but when you look into the rearview mirror you see that you are leading a gaggle of a dozen cars patiently flowing in your track, eager to pass you… you search for a place to pull over to allow them to drive through.
Driving through Connecticut’s North Country on back roads is a tonic for the passengers and a joyride for the driver. Hairpin turns – steep hills to climb – sharp descending turns over narrow bridges – unexpected oncoming traffic – four way stop signs – three way stop signs – single stop signs looming up without warning. Traffic lights that turns yellow to red with little warning, menacing crossings forcing screeching stops - lest you shoot ahead into the oncoming traffic, (which I did one harrowing moment). Model T brakes are notorious for their sluggish response and are virtually non-existence. Narrow rural roads are laced with potholes. Driving them is a challenge. Dense forests turn day into night until suddenly you emerge into blinding sunshine.
Connecticut is a small State, but cruising through its Northern territory is a far cry from the polished estates and gracious lanes of Greenwich and New Canaan. This area of Connecticut is a beautiful wilderness largely covered with forests and small farms. The Connecticut River valley is bucolic with ancient iron bridges crossing its wide span and a toy ferry that miraculously carries eight cars at a time crossing a wide stretch of the river, which is navigateable for miles up stream. The river served as an important industrial waterway with barges and tug boats carrying freight back and forth. Today its primary use is by pleasure boats. The towns along its shore bear witness to a once thriving water based economy. Massive abandoned mill buildings stand vacant along its shores waiting to be renovated into condos or torn down by the wrecking ball… which ever comes first. Victorian Mansions bear witness to the bygone wealth of these towns.
Our rally consisted of 11 Model T's ranging from 1914 to 1927, (mine is from 1922). All the cars are lovingly maintained. Their owners come in all shapes and ages; they’re a different lot from say - Bugatti owners.
Owners come from all over including Larry the Limey, who keeps his car here permanently for these rallies
These folks function on “T” time… that means flexible and totally unpredictable. Some guys are up at 5 am tinkering with their engines, brakes, and lubrication and then there is me. I don’t fit the mold. I love my car - I've owned it for over forty years, but unlike my cohorts, I know virtually nothing about the mechanics. As a result I have been coasting on a wing and a prayer.... My luck finally ran out.
Look for the next instalment... coming soon!
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