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N.C. Auto Racing Hall Of Fame
119 Knob Hill Road - Lakeside Park
Mooresville, North Carolina 28117
Phone: (704) 663-5331
Business Hours
Monday-Friday: 10am - 5pm
Saturday: 10am - 3pm
CLOSED SUNDAYS
Admission
Adults: $6.00
Children (6-12): $4.00
Sr. Citizens (55+): $4.00
If The Cars Could Talk: Volume 1
If The Cars Could Talk: Volume 1
I am what most people call a “hot rod”. I come from humble roots like most of my kin. I was born in 1929 as a Ford Model A roadster to a young couple in Springfield, Illinois. For many years, I served as reliable transportation for my owners. I attended seven weddings, four funerals, and three 4th of July parades.
In 1942 I was parked in a shed because war rationing only allowed for one set of tires and those went on the family station wagon. The next few years were very lonely and I accumulated a great deal of dust and many of my moving parts began to rust.
When the war ended, I was put back into service but, at age twenty, the years had taken their toll. I couldn’t keep up with the new cars.
Over the next ten years, I was sold several times and ultimately was parked behind Mr. Allison’s garage because my crankshaft had broken.
Adding insult to injury, mean people broke my windshield and removed many of my vital parts. I knew the time was coming when the local junk yard would soon claim my bones.
In the fall of 1969 a young man bought my remains for Fifty bucks and took me home to his garage for a makeover.
Over the next few years, he fixed my broken parts, removed my fenders, installed a Chevrolet V8 engine, running gear and put me back on the road. I was very proud to be me. I still had my stylish “roaring twenties” good looks, but I had the power to rocket down the highway with all of the new cars. I could even burn rubber for the first time in my life. Ths old girl could really shake her booty.
After a few more years, I was sold again to a man in St. Louis, Missouri who dressed me back up with original fenders and lovely tan leather interior.
I went to car shows and drive-ins and was a very popular part of the street scene. My life was good and my owner took loving care of me. In 1989, things changed again and my owner came into the garage and spoke to me. He said, “Well, old girl, we are going to go to Bonneville and make you famous.”
At the time, I had no idea what that meant, but shortly thereafter they began to take me apart…again. I was frightened. Soon there were welders reinforcing my frame, my body parts were modified and I got a roll bar assembly for reasons I didn’t completely understand. Then my suspension got new springs and shock absorbers. They replaced my transmission and covered my skin with several shiny coats of bright yellow paint. When I thought my second makeover was finished, they installed my new engine, resplendent in bright red paint, sparkling chrome and polished aluminum. People polished and pampered me from bumper to bumper for weeks, adjusting and refining every part of my body. Then they strapped a parachute to my deck lid and told me I was going to the Great Salt Lake.
I loved it there—just me and my driver and the Bonneville Salt Flats. We made speed run after speed run and, though it took several years, I became the fastest supercharged flathead Ford roadster in the world!
Now I sit in a place of honor at the North Carolina Auto Racing Hall of Fame and people come by and take my picture and read my history. Even though I am now 82 years old, I know I am capable of one more pass down the salt and I long to hear the applause and feel the spray of the champagne. I’ve got a great idea: Come over to my place for a visit…and give me one more chance to smile.
