Cars of My Dreams

posted by Robb Wolff on 5 Apr 2008

by Harvey Wolff

"I guess my first interest in old cars took place in about 1926 when I left the key on in my Dad's "Model T" Ford Truck. This was at the old Massey Harris located where the Cahoon Lumber Co. now stands. I remember the coils buzzing so loud that someone came out of the Chautauqua tent during one of the dramatic recitations, and made me turn the key off to keep the peace. From then on, I remember I wanted to learn to drive so badly ... I was seven or eight at the time. I convinced my Uncle Dave to take me out and teach me in the old truck. My Uncle was a good sport and I guess I touched a responsive chord, so he took me out to the road to Fort Macleod. In those days this road extended north across the reserve from the cemetery road and on to the Indian Agency. As we turned the corner on to the road, he slid over and said, "go to it boy, she's all yours". I did and stepped on the low... (click here to read the rest)

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Women's Shoes vs. the Model T Carb

posted by Robb on 1 Nov 2004

What is it about women and shoes? It seems that many, perhaps most women just can't have enough of them. I was sharply reminded of this late Wednesday night when I stole sheepishly into the bedroom after an unbridled excursion through the Vintage Ford CD-ROM collection. Naturally I didn't want to disturb Marge from her peaceful slumber. Well, the truth is, I was afraid that if Marge knew how much time I had spent on ah ... "research" she might expect me to get up early and shovel the walks. So with the lights off I quietly crept into the darkened room.

That's when it happened. I barked my shin soundly on the sharp edge of her new shoe rack. The walk-in closet became too small for her collection so she added an auxiliary rack along our bedroom wall. In her defense she tells me that shoes don't "turn" on you like slacks and dresses do. They are accommodating no matter what stage you are at with your latest diet. It's a hard thing for me to understand. Until recently I was still wearing shoes that I bought at a British Boot liquidation sale on Jasper Avenue in 1984.

I wish... (click here to read the rest)

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A Toast to the Ladies

posted by Robb on 1 Nov 2004

President Roy, Honoured Guests, Rotary Annes, Rotarians. I have been honoured tonight to have been asked to give a toast to the ladies. This should be one of the easiest tasks of my career but now that it is my pleasure I find it difficult to express my thoughts and have them come out as I feel them. Believe me when I say they are all good. If in the next few minutes I say something which may be offensive to you please forgive me as I only wish to convey to you, by using past history, my, and I hope our feelings, as Rotarians to toast you ladies.

In the beginning God made man. He saw that what he had done was good, so good in fact that he felt that man should have a mate to look after him and keep him as good as he was. He then made women. I want to thank God for that; he did a real nice thing. I would like to thank you ladies for the patience and tolerance you have given us which reminds me of an experience I would like to share with you now.

When Isabel and I were... (click here to read the rest)

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The Bootlegger

posted by Robb on 1 Nov 2004

"The Bootlegger" lived on the east hill overlooking Lee Creek about 4 blocks from our house. I used to think of him as a dark and sinister figure but I do admit that he provided an essential service; given the fact that the nearest liquor store was 40 miles away.

I would have never come to know The Bootlegger had it not been for my early experiences with Model Ts. One warm summer afternoon I persuaded a good friend to follow me in his dad's 1963 Pontiac Parisianne and clock the top speed I could attain in our 26 T pickup. We headed out on highway 5 north-east of town toward the Silver Bridge. According to my friend I reached a top speed of 55 miles an hour. On the way back the engine developed a pronounced knocking sound. By the time we arrived at our shop the motor was making enough noise that it drew my father out of the parts department to see what the ruckus was all about. For the life of me I don't know why he didn't ground me for the rest of the summer. Instead he simply scowled and said, "Go get The Bootlegger". The... (click here to read the rest)

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