Front row L to R: Art Hedman, Anna Marx, B.J. Miller, Ron Miller, Tony Cerovski, Steve Coniff, Joey Coniff

Back row L to R: Gary Ebbert, Josh Billmayer, Sam Nickol, Tom Carnegie, Rick Carnegie, Mark Hutchinson, Rob Flesner, Doug Langel, David Lingle

General News

Not much news to report. I hope this arrives before you leave for Helena. Everyone’s T’s should be up and ready by now. If not, better get that last push on.
I’m sure that as Model T people, you have heard the story of the guy who makes it home on the rod bearing made out of an old belt or shoe leather or bacon rind or whatever. In this issue I have reprinted a story that was written in 1921. It takes place in Dave Huson’s neck of the woods. I submit this as being the oldest written example of the bacon rind story.
In the future I plan to write a serial, set in the 1920’s. People have mentioned to me that they like stories. I aim to please, so you’ll get stories for a while.
I think I may have my printing problem solved. The Spokane Model T club has purchased a new color laser printer which they kindly said that I could use for the cost of materials. Materials are fairly cheap on a laser printer, and a laser printer is far faster than the ink jet that I have been using. Plus, I can easily print COLOR on any page. This newsletter was printed with the laser printer. Let me know what you think.
I can use drivers’ profiles if anyone wants to write some. I can also use photo’s of past races if anyone has them. If you send them to me, I can scan them and post them on the internet for all to enjoy. I’ll then return the originals.

It wasn't my car - in fact one could scarcely call it my experience except for the fact that I was along on the trip and helped to make the repair and subsequent run home a possibility.
The car was a Ford roadster and its condition was far removed from what we are pleased to term the "pink of perfection." As a matter of cold fact, we had absolutely no business attempting even a short trip on a car in such bad shape even had the driving conditions been ideal as to grades and roads, not to mention weather.
But then, in my calling, I get around to our western and midwestern branches only infrequently; and when I do drop in on one, every move is made and every step taken to have me cover as much territory as possible during my short stay.
And so it was this day. I had happened in on Denver late in the summer - last summer - and had cleaned up about all the work in immediate vicinity of the "Mile-High" town which had been allotted me - with a day to spare. And then Strong, attached to our Denver branch happened along with a tale of a case of trouble which needed immediate action - and the scene of the festivities was laid way over the mountains, across from what the Denverites term Berthude Pass, if I am not mistaken.
And only this particular Ford was available!
So we started. We hit westward along the concrete highway out of Denver toward the mountain range, which was in plain view from the start. Eight to ten miles of travel brought us into the foothills, past Table Rock and skirting the edge of the town of Golden, which some time back-Strong said it was "B. P.", or before prohibition-was the capital of the State of Colorado.
And then began a thirteen-mile ascent, which was good when it ran only as high as 12 per cent, but which in spots reached 17 to 18 per cent. The figures are vouched for by Strong, who is a Denver boy. Of course, I had no gradometer or other means of verifying the gradient.
But at any rate, from the moment we passed through the gate to the Rocky Mountain Parks just outside of Golden, and attacked that grade, the Ford might just as well have been without a high-speed clutch-for it played absolutely no part in the performance of the engine.
It was a case of lean heavily on the low-speed pedal, give it all the throttle possible, and just fan the oil out of the crankcase with the rapidly whirling crankpins as the car slowly edged its way up the steep slope. Happily however, the roadway was good, the grade surface being in fair shape and while narrow in spots, especially at the sharp bends and "switch back" corners, at the best speed we could make on the up-grade there never was the slightest danger of losing control and dashing through the brown-stone-pillared, wire-rope fence which edged the roadway and gave one the feeling of partial security.
And I confess, that feeling was comforting to me, a newcomer in these parts.
The car had a knock in it when we started. Strong said that when in good condition it would take most of the less steep gradients on high, but this day each up-grade meant miles of low-gear work.
We were not sensible, however, to any increase in engine noise as a result of the hard treatment we accorded the little power plant, and even in its poor condition, while it got hot and very hot, it did not actually overheat to such an extent as to cause a falling off in pulling power which was noticeable to us.
Several miles up and at about an elevation of some 8,000 feet, if I remember rightly, we passed Lookout Mountain peak and the Cody (Buffalo Bill) monument, which tops it in grandeloquent style-and then after quite some further working up to heights of greater supremacy, we finally tapered off to level for a few miles and then began a descent of equal steepness and seemingly interminable extent.
Still no rest for the engine
Neither service brake on the transmission drum nor emergency brake on the rear wheel drums gave perfect satisfaction and a feeling of full safety. And so the engine was brought into play again to act as a brake and check the car speed to apoint consistent with the road conditions and the numerous twists and turns which we encountered.
Straight down to the level of Clearwater Creek we traveled in this fashion, with the motor turning over nearly as fast as on the up-grade. Then we skirted the creek for miles and miles of approximately level traveling, out through Idaho Springs, past the Stanley mines, past the little city of Empire, which is the last settlement on the eastern side of Berthude Pass.
Then began the real ascent. Grades of interminable length and extreme steepness; road surface slippery and skiddy because of showers which preceded us. It was tough going, not only on us, but on the motor.
We had just about reached the timber line at an elevation of some 11,000 feet, and with miles and more miles of ascent ahead of us, when the inevitable happened-we 'shot" a front connecting rod bearing.
We blessed the salesman who used that particular car on his route for not seeing that it was kept in proper condition we blessed ourselves for not having filled up with proper oil at Idaho Springs or Empire-but that was only giving vent to our feelings-feelings which naturally were somewhat wrought up at facing a seemingly impossible mechanical repair, miles from nowhere, without the slightest chance of meeting a soul and not a bite to eat.
That was the principal rub.
So we sat down on the running-board to size up the situation and see what could be done. The most obvious suggestion was to work the car around and coast back to Empire - but that was impossible, for while the general trend of the road had been upward at accelerated rate, there were several level stretches and some downward grades which we knew full well we could not surmount.
That plan was quickly given up and we sought a mechanical solution.
There was no doubt but what the engine bearing was gone, the terrific knock gave ample and convincing evidence of that-enough to satisfy both of us without the necessity of removing the crankcase lower half.
We had just two choices. Leave the car there and walk back to Empire, a distance of several miles, which we probably could cover quite handily by nightfall or rip down the engine sufficiently to make a temporary repair-and then dig up some means of replacing the engine bearing so that we could run the motor at least temporarily
Very frankly, the latter course seemed almost hopeless with the few spare parts and tools which the average salesman's kit contains-and next to impossible when we remembered that the Ford hearing is poured in place there is no shell.