LITTLE CHROME BUTTON

I’ve been keeping this journal for so long it’s difficult, really difficult to remember what I’ve written about and what I’ve not. Revisiting an idea or experience isn’t so bad but I like to think I’m tracking forward rather than looping a subtle arc. Reflection is a good thing and repetition certainly, for memory’s sake, fixes story in the mind. So I think I’ll let myself go this morning and dredge up stuff from my growing up that belongs to the past: then again, live long enough and that’s what’s left.

We moved from Tracy Street in Kansas City to Blue Ridge which was more rural than suburb. It was 1945, just a month before our atom bomb ended the war with Japan. Our car was a 1937 Ford, 2 door sedan. To start the car my dad put the key into a lock on the steering column, turned it to unlock the steering wheel then raised a toggle switch on the lock that turned on the battery. On the dashboard next to the lock was a little, chrome starter button. He would pump the gas pedal several times or pull the choke cable (another knob on the dash) then push the starter button. The starter would stay engaged with the motor for as long as you pushed on the button and you didn’t want the starter engaged with the motor running so there was a timing/skill factor. The manual choke on the dash was a pull/push control that sent a rich fuel mixture to the motor to help get it started and smooth running. A cold motor simply would not run on the lean mix for normal driving. A short wait, a couple of minutes, when the needle on the temp gage began to move he would slowly ease the choke knob back to the off position and the idling motor would smooth out, ready to go. 

There was no radio but there was a slot on the dash where the controls would go and a chrome grate to cover the speaker. Heaters were aftermarket features. Any mechanic could instal one on the firewall, under the dash on the passenger side. Our heater was a SouthWind brand. It ran on gasoline, from a ’T’ in the fuel line between the gas tank and the motor. With a little fan blowing warm air down on the passenger’s feet there was another small fan mounted on the dashboard. You could turn it as needed to keep the windshield defrosted. Sometimes when it was icy cold, you needed a rag or scraper to keep it clear. The ’37 Ford was roomy enough in back but the front was narrow and cramped. With a floor shift between the seats, only space for a toddler to fit on the passenger’s lap. Who would have guessed that 75 years later the ’37 sedan, intact, would be worth a fortune.

My first car was a ’47 Ford coupe; same lock on the column, same starter button. The big advance was the gearshift on the steering column and a more powerful motor. It would be worth big bucks as well now. Old cars are wonderful to look at, wonderful to play with, especially if you can remember when you were both new.