From a very early age I have been fascinated with cars and trucks, with people who drive them and people who work on them. When we were going somewhere in the car, I always stood up behind my Dad so I could watch his every move as he drove. So, many years before I was big enough to drive, I had imagined myself driving, almost feeling every move that I would make in steering and controlling the car. I just knew I could drive, even when I was much too small. I even imagined myself saving the day if our school bus driver got sick. I fully believed I could drive that bus to school, even if I was too young and too little.
When we were in the field with the tractor on the farm, I remember asking my Dad how the burning of gasoline in the engine could make the engine turn and have power. I was too young to understand all he told me, but I heard about pistons and rods and crankshafts, and how the burning of the gasoline pushes the pistons and the rods crank the shaft around and around. I finally got the idea by comparing it to drilling a hole in wood with a brace and bit. Also, I used to watch steam locomotives, and I could see the shiny shaft along the front sliding in and out, and the huge rod cranking the wheels round and round.
As I grew up, I dreamed of taking an old worn out car and redoing it to be like new. When I got my first car, my '49 Pontiac, in about 1958, and found that it had serious engine problems, I had planned to get another engine block, and to build a good engine for my car. I went so far as to buy an engine from a junk car in Bentonville. But when I took it apart, I found it was too far gone; the cylinder walls were too thin for reboring and refurbishing.
About that time I went to work for Burger Motor Company in Bentonville, and soon discovered that they had older cars on a back lot which looked better for rebuilding than my Pontiac. I ended up buying a 1951 Ford car for $150. As I was driving it home to Pea Ridge, coming down the hill and crossing Little Sugar Creek, my "new" worn-out car almost quit. The valves were sticking, and the motor almost died. But, we limped in home with my new project. The first step was to remedy the sticking valves. I bought a can of Bardahl, a popular oil additive at the time. My brother Ben helped by keeping the engine running pretty fast, and I started pouring the Bardahl down the carburetor. Such a smoke as we made! In a minute all our farm buildings were enveloped in heavy smoke! For 10 minutes we couldn't even see to walk around! But, my Ford's engine ran fine after that, no more sticking valves!
I soon had the car cleaned up and waxed and shined, and even though the dark blue paint had flaws, it didn't look bad at all. I was driving it to work every day and saving up money to fix it up. Actually, I was having to fix some things to keep going, and my saving up wasn't going well. I had to replace worn front suspension parts and put on new brakes. My brother Ben liked the car too, and several times he borrowed it to go out on a Saturday evening. One morning after Ben had borrowed my car, I came out to go to work, started my Ford, and quickly shut it off. There was a heavy, heavy knock in the engine, like someone hammering steel with a sledge hammer! My Dad took me to work, and that evening I asked Ben if it had been making noise as he brought it in? He said something like "Well, I didn't really notice!" It was years later that he finally told me the story of the hammering rod. He had been drag racing some of his friends with my old junk Ford, and winning much of the time, until the old engine began beating itself to death.
In those days, many of us young boys were what we called "shade tree mechanics." We worked on our cars out under a shade tree, with what tools we could find, sometimes hanging a hoist from a tree limb to lift out an engine. It was amazing how much one could do out under a shade tree; at least we used to be able to fix the old cars back then. Our cars didn't have electronic control modules and electronic ignition and electronic fuel injection to complicate things, and we could often fix them under the shade tree. Under the shade tree, I soon found out that my little Ford V-8 had pretty much destroyed itself.
So, I had to make a big change in plans, and to deal with bigger expense than expected. I decided to buy a rebuilt short block, rather than trying to repair my old battered motor. Mr. Burger let me pay out the expense on a time plan, by deductions from my weekly paycheck. A rebuilt short block consists of a sound engine block with reconditioned cylinder walls, reconditioned crankshaft, new pistons and rings, new bearing inserts, refurbished rods and camshaft. One bolts on his old cylinder heads, manifolds, carburetors, fuel pump, distributor and other parts, and his engine is like new. The terms of my repayment didn't sound too bad at the start, but I remember that every week that $20 coming out of my check felt very heavy. I resolved not to do that again if I could avoid it.
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Editor's note: Jerry Nichols, a native of Pea Ridge, is an award-winning columnist, a retired Methodist minister with a passion for history. He is vice president of the Pea Ridge Historical Society. He can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected], or call 621-1621.
Editorial on 02/11/2015