it was 1951, my last year in high school in Anoka Minnesota, I had bought my granddad's 1930 Model A tudor sedan, I rebuilt the engine, put in nicer upholstery, a radio, a heater of sorts and twin sidemount spare tires in the front fenders. One thing lead to another, first was milling the head for more compression, then two carburetors on a special home made manifold, dual exhausts, a 3/4 race cam, lighter flywheel and a re-bore to the max. The car looked completely stock but would now do 92 mph, a friendly cop clocked me on the highway and now no one could beat me from a stop sign. The word spread far and near, this hopped up Model A that could beat any car of the time in a drag race.
One night at the local drive-in someone asked if I would race with a kid from another town, he had a fast '49 Ford, I told him to have the kid come, eat my dust. He came later and we got onto the four lane going north, somebody yelled GO and we went. Suddenly I saw the flashing light of the local cop, he was coming fast, had heard about this impending race. The race was on, too late now, I saw the headligts of the '49 grow dim in my rearview, I had it to the floor. Lucky there was a slight curve, a gravel side road up ahead, I turned off my lights, used the hand brake to slow down with no stop lights, flew around the corner and up this deserted gravel road. As I coasted I saw both cars go by, the cop was behind the kid, they faded from sight.
I sat there for some time, listened to the radio, then turned around and headed south and on my way home.
Next night a friend told me: "They don't know who you are but are going to arrest you on sight".
My goose was cooked, I had to do something, so went to the local junkyard, bought a Model A coup with a good body, towed it home, took that body off, also my tudor body and made the exchange, I now had a blue Model A coupe but with the same fast running gear. My dad was tearing his hair out, these bodies hanging from the ceiling of his nice garage, he had no idea what was going on. Anyway... I went back to town again same as ever but a little more careful about these drag races, the town cops never did know, never saw that black tudor again.
In later years I told my dad all about this, we had some great laughs and I think he was maybe a little proud to think that I had been able to stay out of trouble, no jail time and no fines.
After my tour in the Army I came home, traded my Model A in on a nearly new '53 Ford convertible, girls had become more important than motors.
Warren E. Sjoberg