While stationed in Shilo, Manitoba back in the spring of ’93 I received orders to deploy to the Western Sahara as a United Nations Military Observer (UNMO); concurrently my good friend Mark Hilash sent me information about a 1943 Ford C60LAAT for sale… in Chicago! Being the owner of a 40mm Bofors I decided to acquire the beast. The army generously allows people deploying into remote jobs to take a low interest loan to help cover expenses while gone… it was just the ticket to allow me the purchase.
The seller and I communicated, lots of pictures were faxed back and forth and I was assured that the beast would have no problem chugging from Chicago to Ottawa, but he did think I was nuts. Mark H couldn’t get free to do the trip with me but an equally nutty friend, Mark Paine agreed to help out with the long drive. I sprung for air tickets to get us from Shilo and Ottawa respectively and we landed in Chicago in mid May with only some idea of the challenge ahead of us.
The truck was everything it was advertised to be, good condition with a couple of small rust holes, engine roared to life on the first kick, new exhaust, brakes gone over with new rubber everywhere and silicon fliud… the deal was struck and the adventure began.
First problem was to get the fan belt squeal dealt with and a slight wobble at 25 mph out of the steering. So we stopped at a shop the seller recommended where a cheerful mechanic tightened up the belt (we watched carefully as we figured we might have to do this again). Just as he got the tension perfect his crowbar slipped and he holed the rad! Most redfaced he finished the belt tightening and took us across the road to a rad shop where he negotiated a good deal (he paid for removing and replacing as well as the the hole and I paid for tanking, cleaning, reassembly and painting- I figured if the rad’s out may as well get it done right. I added a better passenger side rearview mirror as it had the original 3.5” round jobbies and I couldn’t see sh*t. back to Mr Crowbar we got the front axle up and he adjusted the linkages and tightened everything up so we had a smoother ride.
On the road, again we roll for Detroit, 279 miles away… along the way we get lots of hoots and waves as we trundled along at 41 mph, engine howling, roof drumming and transfer box shifter t-t-t-t-tinging. First stop for gas a bungy cord is acquired and the transfer case lever is boinged into place to get rid of the mildly annoying t-t-t-t-ting-ting-tinging. Oil and gas consumption aren’t bad so off we go. Mark and I communicate with scuba hand signals as you can’t hear yourself think in the windowless un-insulated cab! Getting used to 1940's brakes was an adventure and I admit to running a few stops signs on rural roads before I got the full hang of it
The sun is slowly setting and we are a bit south of Detroit when we suffer a major electrical problem… the engine won’t stay running! We were stopped for gas at a small Mom and Pop service station and the owner, a kindly born again type, took a look and suggested we needed to look at the distributor. He regretted he couldn’t stay as he was locking up to go take his family to evening prayers but he offered to get us to a motel. We explained that we were self contained and would sleep in the back of the truck if he didn’t mind and he generously offered to leave the toilet unlocked for us. With a promise to be in early to fix us up he headed out. We crashed into our sleeping bags and slept the rest of the truly weary.
The story continues Monday with a surprise, an education on early Ford distributors and a border crossing… yikes!
Mike
