Lady's Story

It all started some 30 years ago, 15,000 miles away in Wilmington 
Delaware, USA when I was about 8 years old…about here

There was a field behind the primary school I attended.  Along the 
side of the school, there was a laneway with a loop at the top where
the big yellow buses came to drop kids off in the morning and pick 
them up to go home after school.

I lived close enough to walk, about ¾ of a mile I’d guess, so when 
school was out I could often be found there playing with friends on 
the swings and bars, kicking balls, playing catch or just messing 
around.

This particular day during the summer break from school, I’d come 
on my own riding my bike; there was no one around.  Then I heard 
an odd noise; something that made the sound of a tractor was 
coming up the lane.  Always having been a curious kid, I ran across 
the filed and down the small hill to see just what it was.

A small car, unlike any I’d seen before, save those funny looking ones 
in old ‘goofy’ cartoons.  It had, spoked wheels and fenders, a bit like 
my bike.  It had no top and what little paint there was beyond the rust, 
was a dark blue.  The driver was a boy about my sister’s age maybe 
17 or 18.

He’d come up the lane and stopped at the top of the loop when I 
arrived.  He then bent forward out of sight for a second and when he 
sat up, he pulled back on a stick by his knee.  Next, he turned the 
end of a stubby little screw driver sticking out of the dash – finally the 
tractor sounding motor in the funny little car came to a stop.

The driver got out by standing up on the seat and jumping over the door.  
He walked around to the passenger side, reached in and picked up off
the floor a big black plastic disc – which he later told me was a discus.  
He had come to the field to practice his throwing.

He and I chatted a bit as we walked up the hill to the field and I must 
have asked him a hundred questions about that old car.  He told me 
it was a Model A.

He showed me how to throw a discus but after a few dizzying goes, 
I wanted to see how he really did it.  So with him throwing and me 
playing the part of the ‘retriever’ we both trained together.

After a while, it was time to go.  We walked back to the funny looking car.  
I so wanted to see the engine that made such a sound.  He opened the 
‘hood’ (the ‘bonnet’ as it is called here), by working some clips on the 
side and folding it in half – to this day something I still find to be great fun. 
We spent the next little while him showing me the car, including the 
‘rumble seat’ – wow how cool was that!

He told me he had to go and I asked if he could give me a quick ride.  
He said ok if I would help him start the car.  “Sure!” I said.  

Next he started a very elaborate routine - turning something under the 
dash, working some levers by the steering wheel, twisting the stubby 
screw driver  - and nothing, no sound.  He then he jumped back out of 
the car and pulled a funny looking handle off the floor of the rumble seat.  
Walking around to the front of the car, he put the end of the handle into 
a hole in the radiator and gave it a tug.  A big bang, some smoke out 
the tailpipe, and the little tractor-sounding engine started.  Well, for a 
kid from the ‘burbs’ nothing could have topped that! 

Leaving my bike at the school, I hopped in for a ride.  We went for a 
quick trip across the main road and into a neighborhood, around the 
block then back to the school.  He had to go so we said goodbye. 
I knew from then on I was truly hooked – it was just a matter of time.

I’ve long since forgotten his name, as I never saw him again.  Many years 
passed but all the while I remember being excited whenever I saw an old 
car wondering if it was a  Model A Ford.

When I was about 30, Margaret and I, by now with Anna and John and
living in California, made friends with some people who owned an old 
Morgan.  They introduced us to a friend of theirs who owned a number 
of old cars including a couple of Model A’s.  Talking to him, he convinced 
me that a Model A was a great car to start with if ever I was thinking of 
getting into vintage cars.  It was simple to work on; easy to find part for 
and there were lots of old car clubs with people who knew how to work 
on them.

Over the next few years, I spend a good deal of time talking to people 
about their old cars, as I became friends with more and more people who 
owned them.

In June 1996 we pulled up stakes and moved to Australia to start a new life. 
It took about a year before we were settled and started venturing out into
the world of old cars again.

A magazine – Unique Cars – a mainstay item for those who love cars 
listed a phone number for the Model A Club of Victoria. I called the 
secretary Alan,  who invited me to visit and have a chat.

I joined the club and started talking to the members about just what was 
involved in owning an antique car.  Most suggested not buying one in bits 
unless I had lots of time and money to put it together.  Others suggested 
that buying a show car that someone else had just restored would be 
expensive too.

That left trying to find a ‘driver’ in reasonably good condition.  
Simple enough until you consider two things – there are many body styles
and there aren’t a lot of these cars that come on the market.  Then as 
always, there was the financing.

Narrowing down the body styles took a bit of time, but with a family of five, 
the job was made a bit easier.  So on to saving up some scratch and 
keeping an eye out for a car in reasonable condition that needed a new 
home.

In the mean time I joined another car club – The Dandenong Valley 
Historic Car Club, there are a few Model A’s in the club but a host of 
very interesting other cars as well.  As members of both clubs we were 
able to join in the fun prior to getting our own car – and what fun it has been
 – a great long weekend away in the beautiful hill country near Wilson’s 
Promontory and National Rally with over 200 Model A’s.

In the end, we found our car, not far from where we re-started.  
The Hartman Family (Michael, Margaret, Anna, John, & James) now 
owns Alan and Dini’s old car – a 1928 Phaeton which we have named 
Lady.

And that's the story of how 'Lady' came to our house – 
which is really the start of another story…