My grandfather, Ben Ostergren (Sr.), bought a new T runabout in 1915 ( a 1916 model) when he was courting my grandmother Agnes Wernstrom. Grandma kept a diary and also wrote poetry. This is her entry from Sunday, April 15, 1917.
Over roads that were bumpy
Over some that were fair
Road a carefree youth and I
Under the sunny April sky
Thirty miles or more we rambled
Yours truly at the wheel
When, thud--and a little hill
Was mounted with perfect skill
But the engine stopped its coughing
And needed a physician's care
So 'twas up to the lad to feel its pulse
And of work to render his share
The wishbone rods from the steering wheel
Were pronounced to have the humps
And refused their function to obey
of guiding us on our way
So we yanked them from their places
And on rocks of stony grey
Hammered them with the tools we had
Till they looked their original way.
For two long hours nearly
On his back and under the machine
With the oil a'dripping into his eyes
And an aching head feeling twice its size
Worked the lad in misery
But as everything has an ending
We slowly retraced our way
This time in silence with much less zeal
And the lad at the steering wheel
And, here are Grandma and Grandpa...
