Judging my the car's serial number and VIN, my 1936 Ford Roadster rolled off the Ford assembly line in August of 1936, pretty late for the 1936 model year. The car is #3007 out of maybe 3600 Roadsters produced for 1936, which means it was too late for "Easter colors" (more on that later), and it benefited from the various running changes Ford made to the car's design through the model year.
I'm 52 years old, and we've had this car ever since I can remember. I've heard my parents and aunts and uncles tell countless stories of their memories either driving or riding in the car. Those stories deserve more attention than a few passing phrases here, so I'll save them for another post.
For reasons that I have curiously never inquired on, the car was never driven nor even started the whole time I was growing up--we just towed it around from house to house where it sat in garage after garage gathering dust and falling further and further into disrepair. Was it even running when it was first stowed? Why did my dad have such a break with the car yet keep it so long? These are questions I will definitely need to get answered so I can post the dirty details here.
How the Roadster came to be MY Roadster is an interesting story. If I'm remembering correctly, and I'm almost certain I'm not, dad's significant other of the time said it was her or the car but one of them had to go. Dad and my step-brother Nick put the car on a truck and brought it down from NorCal to my house in Laguna. At that time, the car was in such bad shape, that it wouldn't even roll--we had to pretty much jostle and nudge and squeak it along the driveway into my garage.
That was in 1998, and the car has been in my loving, open-pocketbook care ever since. This blog is my story, and I hope you enjoy reading it.
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