Antiques Guide/Old-TimeStories

Test-Driving An Oakland Motor Car

By Ol’ Ephraim

About the author: “Ol’ Ephraim” is a modest, humble man, and a dear friend of mine. When I asked him if I could videotape him—that his voice was as soft as a horse’s nose—he just chuckled and retorted, “More like a horse’s you-know-what,” and kindly declined. We decided together that when writing for us, he’d use the pen name “Ol’ Ephraim.” Here is his first submission:

My father graduated from college around 1922 and his first job was at the Oakland Motor Car Company in Pontiac, Michigan. This was an era of big, fine open cars in a highly competitive auto market and as the years passed, many of the fine old car companies and names fell by the wayside.

At the Oakland Motor Car Company plant, the cars were assembled on an assembly line much like that created by Henry Ford. After the wheels, steering and suspension were fitted to the chassis, the engine and transmission and drive line and differential were added and the unit exited the plant to a circular dirt track. My Dad and other men, one to a car, would attach a temporary gas tank to the carburetor, add a battery, and set the timing, spark advance or retard roughly, set a nail keg where the driver’s seat would be, crank the engine to start it, and then drive it around the track, stopping periodically to fine tune the engine adjustments. When they felt it was running properly, they’d remove all the temporary stuff and the unit would go back into the factory to have the body installed and everything finished up. The cars were subsequently painted and hand rubbed out and, finally, considered finished.

From time to time, when enough completed cars had been finished, my Dad and others would drive the cars in a convoy to Detroit for sale.

In the years to follow, the Oakland Motor Car Company would become the Pontiac Motor Division of the General Motors Corporation.

In the attic of my garage there is a black wooden trunk with a big lock hasp on it, and with a big railroad lock through the hasp. Inside are the tools that my Dad used to use at the Oakland Motor Car Company, and no amount of money will ever induce me to part with them. They are for his grandchildren, one of whom presently operates his own automobile service garage in northern Lower Michigan, a fitting final place for them.