This is a story about running down a Model “A” Ford lead and possibly being able to purchase the car. We most often look for hobby cars that were never finished or cars that have sat in the garage for years and years, forgotten until a new owner or relative comes on the scene and wants to get rid of the junker. Like some of our adventures, you may find this one, shall we say “unusual”.
We walk up to the entrance door in the picket fence surrounding the house, garage and property. A military or government compound comes to mind. We push the doorbell button. Immediately a bonafide police siren blares scaring the BeJeesus out of us to announce our arrival and hopefully someone comes out to the gate. Otherwise I fear that the police and possibly paratroopers will descend upon us and the riot squad will be here shortly. Other than the picket fence with a few mild, almost tasteful signs on it, this place from the road looks pretty much like any other residential property on this route. It is an older, stately house. On the other side of the fence, however, Oh boy! We are confronted with a surrealistic landscape of bizarre outlandishness. Inside the picket fence that shields the property from the state route traffic we walk down the cluttered cement walkway. I needed to use the owner’s battery powered scooter with a half-flat tire because we will be walking hundreds of yards through what our host referred to as “the barnyard”. The electric cart lists distinctly to starboard. I think, don’t lean too far to the right or you may go over! Immediately I notice several 10 ft tall trees of upside down blue bottles, all inverted on strategically placed pegs in a large tree branch or trunk buried in the ground. How odd! Some were wine bottles, some were other types of bottles the likes of which I have never seen before. They are scattered all around throughout the property. Apparently the guy had a thing for blue bottles. And of course, there are hundreds of large metal billboard advertising signs of everything conceivable—8 foot tall Sunoco signs, oil signs, detergent signs, many displayed. Many are just stacked up against trees. Myriads of signs are otherwise covering every inch of the many barns and picket fence, completely surrounding probably two acres that this complex sits on. All are covered with metal advertising signs of everything conceivable. There are also road signs, street signs, bridge signs, do not enter signs, traffic lights suspended from trees, on-ad-infinitum. This is indeed Disneyland of the grotesque.
It is no secret that Jerry and I go for rides, seek out old cars, and collect information when, someone has seen an old car in a field, barn or under a pile of rubbish. We have been called the local version of the American Pickers TV show. They have their preferred items that they are looking for. We look for old Model “A” Fords and parts thereof. Occasionally we stumble on downright bizarre situations and encounter very weird states of affairs.
Jerry’s house sits on a well travelled truck route in Parkman and has a little sign out front with the unmistakable Model “A” headlights and bar on it simply stating Model “A” parts for sale. Occasionally there is a Model “A” Ford out there for sale as well though we seem to have a “please call me first” list whenever we find one and get it running and rolling. The truckers all know the place and more than occasionally stop to buy parts, and exchange information. They spread the word about where to find Jerry’s house. We got a tip from one of them about a place on a state route up near the lake in Mentor, Ohio, that had among other bizarre things several old cars in barns and garages. He thought that they might be Model “A”s and “T”s as well as many parts and piles of junk lying about. He went on to say, “This is a very unusual place”. You will recognize the place by the number of huge highway advertising signs plastered all over the house, fences and barns. “You can’t miss it. Some of the signs tower over the picket fence. Follow the signs! When you go there, you won’t believe it. There are barns and barns full of the strangest things. There are ten foot tall trees of blue bottles instead of branches. There is an alleyway leading down into the “barnyard” that is on a 30% grade and both sides are covered with bottles, signs, paraphernalia and junk for 25 yards. This alleyway is 9 feet wide at best. Wait until you try and get a pickup truck and car hauler up and down it! Oh, is that a picnic!” The trucker did not lie!
I’m traveling down to the barnyard listing to starboard in my borrowed electric cart with the half inflated tire. In one of the first buildings that we encounter are long tables full of erector set Ferris wheels, bridges and contraptions that might have been pictured on the boxes of these toys in 1957. As a kid we would give our ……sacred body parts to have had this kind and amount of erector sets. Nobody we knew ever had anything close to this many erector sets to be able to make one Ferris wheel let alone massive bridges and God knows what else. These were put on display probably 30 to 50 years ago then abandoned for some other project. They now show signs of rust.
Who built these things and when did he tire of them and move on to some other project? Apparently he—John Smith– died two years ago at age 85, and his wife of 69 years, Martha and son John are now the caretakers of this bizarre Disneyland of junk.
What the younger John Smith told us is that his father would seize upon a project, work on it intensely, then suddenly abandon it for something else. This was the pattern he followed all throughout his life. Mrs. Smith verified this stating that she only once got to ride in one of the many antique cars he bought, and that was for two blocks. He’d start working on one car then move on to something else. There were a dozen or so Model “T”s and Model “A”s. There is a 1920s Chrysler in there too. He would buy them up, put them in the sheds, and perhaps work on them a little bit, try to get them going. Then, mid-sentence, mid-thought, they would be left, wrenches askew on the fenders, motors, and such. We inquire about these cars. Several are very desirable models. Granted, Model “T”s are no longer in great demand. Sixty-seventy years ago, however, they were more popular. They don’t drive like modern cars. A modern average man could not get in it and drive away these days. Never-the-less, “Well, maybe I’ll get it going some day”, says the younger John as he showed us around. I’ve sold off maybe 6 of the old cars. Some of the barns are full of old cars and motorcycles. Some have chickens roving about. Hand tools; this is no exaggeration– there are thousands and thousands of every conceivable type of hand tools—pliers, screwdrivers, sockets ratchet sets, and virtually any hand tool that was ever made. They are stuck inside the barn doors, on workbenches, laying everywhere on ledges, floors, fenders, engine blocks. They are kicked aside into piles of junk, dirt, and hand tools so that a car can be gained access to, or you can at least get into the barn.
