One day in 1916 I was as happy as could be, I'd just been to Westfield and bought an auto, an Overland 83B. It was
priced at $683 there on the floor, but- with interest it cost me a great deal more. I think I paid fifty dollars down and each month with the interest I was bound. At that time I was carrying the R.F.D. (mail) about twenty miles a day, and from the government got $64 a month in pay.
The salesman, Phil, brought the car to the post office after I'd returned, as how to run it I needed to learn. He came up twice to teach me to drive, which meant up to the Common and back twice each time! I was expected to drive the hundred miles to Boston to get my license and plates, but Phil said there was no need to do that, just send the request. I filled out the papers and sent them off to Boston. Eventually the necessary plates and license arrived. In between times I'd been driving over the route with Elsie Bartlett who had a license and went with me each day.
After that I drove it alone, going up and down those steep hills in fear, because while changing gears on the wet slippery hills, shifting into the right socket was no easy matter. One night I'd thought to drive up to the store and while shifting on Herrick Hill threw it in reverse by mistake. That taught me a lesson for a while anyway. Shifting gears on a steep hill was dangerous in those days, for most of the roads were rutted and full of water and slime and shifting and starting again gave one a hard time. Many's the time I'd have to back down to a knoll before the changed gears would start to take hold.
My worst trouble was breaking rear axles. They were hard and brittle and broke easily in the early cars. They were apt to break anytime while changing gears on a hill, so I learned to change gears at the bottom or on a knoll. I don't know how many hours I spent day and night going to Westfield after new ones. I soon carried spare axles with me all the time and could stop by the side of the road, using two jacks to get the axle replaced. One day I wanted to go to Westfield for another, so my brother, Herbert, said I could use his Model T Ford. Well, I'd never driven one before. I went up the street where his car stood just inside the garage door. Adaline, his wife, showed me how to start it, but I didn't know backwards from forwards. As it happened it was headed out towards the street. I had Gertrude and the children on the back seat. I didn't know how to stop it or put in in high, so drove around and around in circles getting nowhere. Finally I decided to put it back in the garage, but wanted to stop and let the folks out first. The harder I pushed on the pedals I kept going forward. You could hear Adaline scream. I went into the garage and most out the back end, when somehow or other I removed the right foot and the Ford stopped. No one got hurt and I never tried to drive another Model T. Ford.
No one was sure of his brakes in those days, for after getting wet they would never hold. Brakes were just on the outside of the rear wheels and were always full of mud and gravel so they just squealed! Since there was always mud and water in the ruts you never knew whether you had any brakes or not until you pushed on the brake pedal hoping the car would stop. If no brakes, the only thing to do was to put it in low gear to stall it, and even then sometimes the wheels would slide quite a ways. The wheels had thirty-two inch rims forward and back. The front wheels were three inches wide and the back ones four inches which made a wider track. The brake band was about sixteen inches, SO between outside band and the ground there wasn't much room. I'd put new brake linings on them every few days, but the shoes got so worn they wouldn't hold anyway. For four years or so I went down hills in second or low with my heart in my mouth and my toe pressed hard on the brake pedal. I never could have stopped if anyone was coming my way, yet I kept on climbing those same hills every day.
The flat this side of Herricks was rutted and wet and the mud often came up over the running board step. Mr. Herrick conveniently had a rail fence near, so I filled in the ruts with fence rails year after year. This would raise the transmission and axles clear, then I'd drive the length of the rails, move the back ones ahead and repeat until clear. I dreaded going down Richardson Hill most of all. It was like the side of a steep roof, rough, rutted and wet, and I never knew when an axle or cable might go. At the bottom was a Y and a river across the way where I certainly expected to end up some day. Yet I never met a soul on that road in my life.
I had lots of trouble getting up and over Peebles Hill. Its outcropping of soapstone was always wet and slippery as an eel. Many times I couldn't quite make it. I can still hear the tires squeal. I'd have to back down to the knoll just below to get a fast start. The knoll was usually wet too, and I'd often land in the ditch, but would try again and again and eventually make it. Many of the hills were of clay and gravel at that time. Tires cost about the same as they do today. Often after making just one trip I had to throw one away. The gravel on the hills let the wheels spin round and round, and the rubber just ground and ground. Somehow I traveled those roads in sun. snow, sleet and rain and always made it home again. I generally had to patch tires three or four times a day, but after a while was able to do the job quickly even at night. There was not much tread on wheels back in those days, as tires were not designed for country roads. They were improving tires all the time, but it took many years until they had enough. tread to really take hold. You used sixty pounds of air in those old tires. If you didn't put in enough air they'd blow out anyway. With only a hand pump to use it took quite a lot of pumping to get them hard enough.
Another constant problem - the transmission and oil pan were very close to the ground, and you simply couldn't dodge all the rocks in the center of the road. One day as I drove down Blair Road onto Stannard Road and turned around, I saw right away a trail of oil on the ground. I knew what had happened - it came from my oil pan. I can tell you I was one scared man. So I drove very slowly watching the trail of oil and it wasn't long before I found that plug safe and sound. Whoever had put the car together had never screwed the plug in tight. I soon had it back together and tightly screwed, but that was a close call driving a car without oil. The engine bearings were splash fed in those days and I expected any minute the bearings might go. I had to drive about a mile. uphill and down until at Mr. Stricklands two quarts of oil I found. Then when I got to Mr. Treat's he gave me another quart. If I remember correctly the crankcase held four. By coasting downhill and driving up slow I made it, but got more oil at the store before going home. After that I always carried a small bar with which to remove stones I thought were too high, or sometimes drove in the ditch to get by.
When low on gas I had to back up the steep hills, as cars were not force fed then. The gas just flowed by gravity from the tank to carburetor. That was before tanks were set under the seat at the front end. So if the gas supply was low and a long hill ahead you just turned around and backed up.
One Sunday I thought to go over by the Cooks for a ride, just a short ways, as I hadn't any number plates for that year yet. The hills between were very. steep, so at the top before starting down I always shifted into low gear. But this time I shifted into the next slot and discovered when I got to the bottom I'd used reverse! It didn't do any great harm as the car stopped at a thank-you-mam nearby. I had to start the car again and put it into low gear. Another day I wanted to go to Springfield to a ball game, and as I'd learned to drive without brakes through those country lanes expected no trouble. I found though that trolley cars crossed the road most anywhere, and I was expected to stop and let them have the right of way. As I went around a corner one was coming right my way and he and I met at the crossing, neither one stopping. I knew that I couldn't and he wouldn't so I stepped on the gas and had enough speed to pull around in front of him. The motorman kept stomping on his gong and the look on his face I can still see!
The engine needed to be cleaned of carbon about twice a year, but I found that by getting the engine very hot it burned itself clear and saved me $64, as that's what cleaning an engine cost in those days. So I'd purposely let the water get low once in a while. Another time I took the car over to Father's; Fred Robbins was there to fix the engine and try to repair the brakes. I was still carrying the mail on the R.F.D. and in an awful hurry to be on my way. So I forgot that engines needed water to keep cool and drove up to Blandford fast like a fool. The engine was red hot as I neared Enos Boise's house and I left the engine running and got water nearby. After that the car purred like a cat for a week or two, but it was a very foolish thing for me to do.
We did have electric lights but they were all hitched on the same line. One hard jolt and all the lights were gone. From then on we carried two lanterns with us all the time and at night drove from lantern light.
Those early cars were open, not closed in. We always rode with the top down unless it rained, as there were many bumps in the road and no shock absorbers or springs, so that the passengers bounced up and down and hit their heads on the braces if the top was up. The top was made of waterproofed canvas which closed up like an accordion. It was covered in tight and laid back out of the way, and the side curtains had a certain place to lay. It was quite a job getting the top in place, and if it started to rain you were apt to get wet in the process. After you'd gotten the top in place and hitched tight to the windshield, there were four curtains, two to each side, to fit and fasten. Each button or latch to fit in the right place and get it all tight. It was a rat race.
When my children, Raymond and Betty, had to have their tonsils out I took them down to the hospital but not to stay. The doctor operated on them in a small room, and when the job was finished told me to take them right home. As soon as I started to drive each one began to yell with pain. I'd push harder on the gas, trying to get them home as quick as I could. I nearly didn't make it as my brakes weren't any good. As I passed the Old Folks Home everything appeared clear ahead, but as I went over the hill beyond two autos came in view, standing on either side of the road. I pushed on the handle and the horn blew and blew. I was going about forty - very fast in those days. Neither of those cars tried to move out of my way, but I saw that by turning sidewise I could likely squeeze through. Somehow or other by zig-zagging I made the opening between and finally arrived at our farmhouse.
One fine day we drove down to Southwick to see some cousins. Every- thing went well on the trip down, but coming home I got up to twenty-eight miles per hour and Gertrude wanted to get out right away. She said I was driving too fast, so I slowed down to twenty the rest of the way home.
I guess it cost me more to run that car each month than I received in pay, but I could save the horses to do my farm work instead. In winter I had to use horses on the mail route. I guess I drove that car for five summers, as in spring, fall and winter it was never registered. I'd get it registered in June most every year. In the fall I'd put it in the church shed to use again when the roads were clear. I finally sold that old car for $25 since there was another just like it in town and the owner wanted my car for parts to repair his. So after five years of patching tubes and using lanterns I was pleased to see the rear end going out of sight. My days of fear on the hills had now passed away. In 1921 I bought a Reo which cost $1800 but was a great improvement. The brakes were enclosed so mud and water could not get in. It was a much heavier car and more comfortable to ride in.
priced at $683 there on the floor, but- with interest it cost me a great deal more. I think I paid fifty dollars down and each month with the interest I was bound. At that time I was carrying the R.F.D. (mail) about twenty miles a day, and from the government got $64 a month in pay.
The salesman, Phil, brought the car to the post office after I'd returned, as how to run it I needed to learn. He came up twice to teach me to drive, which meant up to the Common and back twice each time! I was expected to drive the hundred miles to Boston to get my license and plates, but Phil said there was no need to do that, just send the request. I filled out the papers and sent them off to Boston. Eventually the necessary plates and license arrived. In between times I'd been driving over the route with Elsie Bartlett who had a license and went with me each day.
After that I drove it alone, going up and down those steep hills in fear, because while changing gears on the wet slippery hills, shifting into the right socket was no easy matter. One night I'd thought to drive up to the store and while shifting on Herrick Hill threw it in reverse by mistake. That taught me a lesson for a while anyway. Shifting gears on a steep hill was dangerous in those days, for most of the roads were rutted and full of water and slime and shifting and starting again gave one a hard time. Many's the time I'd have to back down to a knoll before the changed gears would start to take hold.
My worst trouble was breaking rear axles. They were hard and brittle and broke easily in the early cars. They were apt to break anytime while changing gears on a hill, so I learned to change gears at the bottom or on a knoll. I don't know how many hours I spent day and night going to Westfield after new ones. I soon carried spare axles with me all the time and could stop by the side of the road, using two jacks to get the axle replaced. One day I wanted to go to Westfield for another, so my brother, Herbert, said I could use his Model T Ford. Well, I'd never driven one before. I went up the street where his car stood just inside the garage door. Adaline, his wife, showed me how to start it, but I didn't know backwards from forwards. As it happened it was headed out towards the street. I had Gertrude and the children on the back seat. I didn't know how to stop it or put in in high, so drove around and around in circles getting nowhere. Finally I decided to put it back in the garage, but wanted to stop and let the folks out first. The harder I pushed on the pedals I kept going forward. You could hear Adaline scream. I went into the garage and most out the back end, when somehow or other I removed the right foot and the Ford stopped. No one got hurt and I never tried to drive another Model T. Ford.
No one was sure of his brakes in those days, for after getting wet they would never hold. Brakes were just on the outside of the rear wheels and were always full of mud and gravel so they just squealed! Since there was always mud and water in the ruts you never knew whether you had any brakes or not until you pushed on the brake pedal hoping the car would stop. If no brakes, the only thing to do was to put it in low gear to stall it, and even then sometimes the wheels would slide quite a ways. The wheels had thirty-two inch rims forward and back. The front wheels were three inches wide and the back ones four inches which made a wider track. The brake band was about sixteen inches, SO between outside band and the ground there wasn't much room. I'd put new brake linings on them every few days, but the shoes got so worn they wouldn't hold anyway. For four years or so I went down hills in second or low with my heart in my mouth and my toe pressed hard on the brake pedal. I never could have stopped if anyone was coming my way, yet I kept on climbing those same hills every day.
The flat this side of Herricks was rutted and wet and the mud often came up over the running board step. Mr. Herrick conveniently had a rail fence near, so I filled in the ruts with fence rails year after year. This would raise the transmission and axles clear, then I'd drive the length of the rails, move the back ones ahead and repeat until clear. I dreaded going down Richardson Hill most of all. It was like the side of a steep roof, rough, rutted and wet, and I never knew when an axle or cable might go. At the bottom was a Y and a river across the way where I certainly expected to end up some day. Yet I never met a soul on that road in my life.
I had lots of trouble getting up and over Peebles Hill. Its outcropping of soapstone was always wet and slippery as an eel. Many times I couldn't quite make it. I can still hear the tires squeal. I'd have to back down to the knoll just below to get a fast start. The knoll was usually wet too, and I'd often land in the ditch, but would try again and again and eventually make it. Many of the hills were of clay and gravel at that time. Tires cost about the same as they do today. Often after making just one trip I had to throw one away. The gravel on the hills let the wheels spin round and round, and the rubber just ground and ground. Somehow I traveled those roads in sun. snow, sleet and rain and always made it home again. I generally had to patch tires three or four times a day, but after a while was able to do the job quickly even at night. There was not much tread on wheels back in those days, as tires were not designed for country roads. They were improving tires all the time, but it took many years until they had enough. tread to really take hold. You used sixty pounds of air in those old tires. If you didn't put in enough air they'd blow out anyway. With only a hand pump to use it took quite a lot of pumping to get them hard enough.
Another constant problem - the transmission and oil pan were very close to the ground, and you simply couldn't dodge all the rocks in the center of the road. One day as I drove down Blair Road onto Stannard Road and turned around, I saw right away a trail of oil on the ground. I knew what had happened - it came from my oil pan. I can tell you I was one scared man. So I drove very slowly watching the trail of oil and it wasn't long before I found that plug safe and sound. Whoever had put the car together had never screwed the plug in tight. I soon had it back together and tightly screwed, but that was a close call driving a car without oil. The engine bearings were splash fed in those days and I expected any minute the bearings might go. I had to drive about a mile. uphill and down until at Mr. Stricklands two quarts of oil I found. Then when I got to Mr. Treat's he gave me another quart. If I remember correctly the crankcase held four. By coasting downhill and driving up slow I made it, but got more oil at the store before going home. After that I always carried a small bar with which to remove stones I thought were too high, or sometimes drove in the ditch to get by.
When low on gas I had to back up the steep hills, as cars were not force fed then. The gas just flowed by gravity from the tank to carburetor. That was before tanks were set under the seat at the front end. So if the gas supply was low and a long hill ahead you just turned around and backed up.
One Sunday I thought to go over by the Cooks for a ride, just a short ways, as I hadn't any number plates for that year yet. The hills between were very. steep, so at the top before starting down I always shifted into low gear. But this time I shifted into the next slot and discovered when I got to the bottom I'd used reverse! It didn't do any great harm as the car stopped at a thank-you-mam nearby. I had to start the car again and put it into low gear. Another day I wanted to go to Springfield to a ball game, and as I'd learned to drive without brakes through those country lanes expected no trouble. I found though that trolley cars crossed the road most anywhere, and I was expected to stop and let them have the right of way. As I went around a corner one was coming right my way and he and I met at the crossing, neither one stopping. I knew that I couldn't and he wouldn't so I stepped on the gas and had enough speed to pull around in front of him. The motorman kept stomping on his gong and the look on his face I can still see!
The engine needed to be cleaned of carbon about twice a year, but I found that by getting the engine very hot it burned itself clear and saved me $64, as that's what cleaning an engine cost in those days. So I'd purposely let the water get low once in a while. Another time I took the car over to Father's; Fred Robbins was there to fix the engine and try to repair the brakes. I was still carrying the mail on the R.F.D. and in an awful hurry to be on my way. So I forgot that engines needed water to keep cool and drove up to Blandford fast like a fool. The engine was red hot as I neared Enos Boise's house and I left the engine running and got water nearby. After that the car purred like a cat for a week or two, but it was a very foolish thing for me to do.
We did have electric lights but they were all hitched on the same line. One hard jolt and all the lights were gone. From then on we carried two lanterns with us all the time and at night drove from lantern light.
Those early cars were open, not closed in. We always rode with the top down unless it rained, as there were many bumps in the road and no shock absorbers or springs, so that the passengers bounced up and down and hit their heads on the braces if the top was up. The top was made of waterproofed canvas which closed up like an accordion. It was covered in tight and laid back out of the way, and the side curtains had a certain place to lay. It was quite a job getting the top in place, and if it started to rain you were apt to get wet in the process. After you'd gotten the top in place and hitched tight to the windshield, there were four curtains, two to each side, to fit and fasten. Each button or latch to fit in the right place and get it all tight. It was a rat race.
When my children, Raymond and Betty, had to have their tonsils out I took them down to the hospital but not to stay. The doctor operated on them in a small room, and when the job was finished told me to take them right home. As soon as I started to drive each one began to yell with pain. I'd push harder on the gas, trying to get them home as quick as I could. I nearly didn't make it as my brakes weren't any good. As I passed the Old Folks Home everything appeared clear ahead, but as I went over the hill beyond two autos came in view, standing on either side of the road. I pushed on the handle and the horn blew and blew. I was going about forty - very fast in those days. Neither of those cars tried to move out of my way, but I saw that by turning sidewise I could likely squeeze through. Somehow or other by zig-zagging I made the opening between and finally arrived at our farmhouse.
One fine day we drove down to Southwick to see some cousins. Every- thing went well on the trip down, but coming home I got up to twenty-eight miles per hour and Gertrude wanted to get out right away. She said I was driving too fast, so I slowed down to twenty the rest of the way home.
I guess it cost me more to run that car each month than I received in pay, but I could save the horses to do my farm work instead. In winter I had to use horses on the mail route. I guess I drove that car for five summers, as in spring, fall and winter it was never registered. I'd get it registered in June most every year. In the fall I'd put it in the church shed to use again when the roads were clear. I finally sold that old car for $25 since there was another just like it in town and the owner wanted my car for parts to repair his. So after five years of patching tubes and using lanterns I was pleased to see the rear end going out of sight. My days of fear on the hills had now passed away. In 1921 I bought a Reo which cost $1800 but was a great improvement. The brakes were enclosed so mud and water could not get in. It was a much heavier car and more comfortable to ride in.