Dad’s Generation

By Ron Trella

My dad, John Martin Trella, was the consummate Ford guy. He worked for the Ford Motor Company, at the Rouge Plant and owned eight Fords in his life; all of them were daily drivers. He would have never thought of owning any other brand, he would not even allow anyone to park a “Brand X” in our driveway. Dad grew up outside of Smithfield, Ohio, in the township of Bradley. It was a farming and coal mining area, in southeast Ohio. Dad was always relating stories of growing up in this area. His father was a coal miner by night and had a small farm that he worked by day to feed his family.

Dad did not relish working in the mines, or on the farm. At the age of 18 in 1929, one of dad’s friends heard that the Ford Motor Company was hiring workers at the Rouge Plant in Dearborn, Michigan. Dad and three of his friends decided this was where they wanted to work. Shortly thereafter, the four of them packed up and headed off for Dearborn in one of his friend’s Model-T.

Now I cannot imagine what a trip like that would have been like in 1929. Knowing that a Model-T had a cruising speed of about 25mph, the 250-mile trip would have been at best, a 12 hour plus trip, if you could drive straight through. We all know the ModelT’s had their own set of idiosyncrasies. Dad did admit the trip had a few unscheduled stops. This trip itself was very daring for the time. The group did eventually make it to Dearborn and all four men landed jobs with Ford. Other than vacations and odd weekend trips, Dad never moved back to Ohio. This was the start of his long 40-year career with Ford.

Sometime around the middle of the 1930s, his intrepid group from Bradley decided they all wanted to go home for a weekend visit, to see their families.

They would make the trip in Dad’s 1934 Ford Tudor.

He related to me that the early Ford V-8s were known to use “a bit of oil.” I understand that 50 miles per quart was normal, until Ford made some improvements to the engine as the V-8 progressed throughout the 1930s. He said the car used more oil than gas on trips.

The group wanted to maximize their time with their families while they were home for the weekend. To do this, they needed to do some planning ahead of time. The plan was the leave right after their shift was over, on Friday night and drive straight through, 250 miles, with as few stops as possible. They would then return Sunday night, to be back at work on Monday morning. Along with a change of clothes, the group also packed extra cans of gas and a case of oil. Dad was always a Pennsylvania crude guy, so Wolfs Head or Pennzoil would have been his oils of choice.

In preparation for the trip, Dad removed the hood and the oil filler cap from the ’34. Friday afternoon came and the group was off for southeast Ohio. Each man taking turns driving.

Dad went on to own a 1930 Model A, a 1934 Tudor Sedan, and then a 1940, 1953, 1959, 1963 and eventually a Falcon and Mustang.

About every 50-60 miles, the oil gauge would begin to drop and the guy driving at that time would signal the “pit crew” to spring into action. One of the back

seat passengers would stab an oil spout (remember those) into a can of oil and hand it to the guy sitting in the front passenger seat. That guy would open the right front door. Remember, these were “suicide doors” opening from the front.

With the right rear back window glass rolled down, one of the back seat passengers would climb partway out of the window and hold onto the door so it would not open too far and break off. The front seat passenger would then slowly crawl out onto the running board, grab onto the radiator support rod to steady himself, and pour a quart of oil or two into the engine.

They did this while cruising down the two lane roads at approximately 45mph. No need to stop, they had this covered. I can imagine this created quite a sight for other drivers seeing the crew in action. Eventually, they did have to stop for gas, where oil could be added in a more conventional method. Dad said the trip there and back went off without a hitch, using the same procedure for the trip back to the Detroit area.

This group of guys was a lot more daring than I ever was in my youth. How dangerous was this stunt? Extremely! If the guy fell, if the door bent back too far, the opportunities for disaster were endless. I thought my group of friends pulled off some crazy stunts in the sixties, but we would have never considered anything like this.

Unfortunately, I have no pictures of his ’34. The picture I really would have liked to have would be of the guy adding oil at 45mph! That would be a keeper! I do have a photo of dad with his 1940 Tudor taken some time during WWII, he looked proud of that car and drove it for 13 years.