Andy’s 30

Both the man and the truck were born in 1930.

Meet My Truck

Certain vehicles drum up feelings of nostalgia.

An old VW bus. A cherried-out, mid-1960s Mustang. A beefy 1957 Chevy Bel Air. These cars transport us to another time—back to a place, a memory, or maybe a scene from a film that perfectly captured an era.

Living in Modesto, California, I’m well aware of the influence American Graffiti had on popular culture and its love affair with classic cars. The streets around my house roar to life every June with those chrome-finned classics kicking off summer during the annual Graffiti Cruise.

With that in mind, let me introduce you to “Andy’s 30,” my 1930 Ford Model A pickup.

For longtime friends, it may come as a surprise—I’ve never been much of a car guy. I maintain my vehicles, sure, but wrenching under the hood? Not really my thing. In a past life, I fiddled with old VWs—learned just enough to understand carburetors, change tires, swap oil. It’s an unspoken requirement when you own an old VW, but I also had a great VW mechanic who often bailed me out. I was never the guy who pulled an engine or tackled major repairs in the driveway.

But when I pulled the Model A out of storage this past November, something shifted. I decided it was finally time to learn the mechanics of cars. And really—what better machine to start with than the most basic car ever built?

The History

In 1972, my dad bought this little truck. He had grown up around Model A’s in the 1930s and ’40s, so it made sense that he’d circle back to one later in life. At the time, both he and the truck were only 42 years old.

We lived in San Jose at the time and there was a great “Model A guy” in town with a literal farm of parts and pieces to restore these old beauties. I was four years old at the time, so for as long as I can remember, that truck was a fixture in our driveway.

When it came time to learn how to drive, my dad took me to the high school parking lot and taught me in the Model A. Mechanical steering. Mechanical brakes. Unsynchronized gears. I guess he figured that if I learned how to drive the Model A, I could handle any modern automobile with an automatic transmission. He was right.

I continued to drive it off and on through high school, but eventually left for college and then started life out in the central valley of California. When my folks retired and moved out to the valley, the truck followed them. Once again, I got back behind the wheel and remembered the intricacies of driving an old car.

Reboot

After spending several years stored in a friend’s barn, I brought the truck home recently. Like the motorcycles, the podcast, and a handful of other choices I’ve made this past year, the Model A has become part of my personal therapy—a way of re-centering, reimagining what the second half of life might look like.

I also decided that it would be the time to learn how a car functions. What better place to start? A simple engine. A straightforward fuel delivery system. The easiest wiring imaginable.

In the past six months, I’ve rebuilt a carburetor, learned about distributors and setting timing, replaced a water pump (which included removing and acid-washing the radiator), and—just recently—replaced the brake shoes and adjusted the mechanical brakes.

And honestly? I feel like I’m just getting started.

Looking Ahead

“Andy’s 30” in front of the McHenry Museum, Modesto, CA

To me, it’s very cool to bring a piece of family history back to life with a few tools, your own two hands, and a few hours of YouTube tutorials. Every nut I have tightened and every hose I’ve had to reconnect feels like a small act of connection— to my dad, to his love for Model A’s, and to all those hours he tinkered in the garage. It’s also a link to a lifetime of my own memories spent around this old truck. The sound of the frame as it rattles down the road. The familiar smell of gasoline when it’s parked in the garage. And then, like I said at the beginning, there is a nostalgia this truck stirs up—a longing for a time in America when we moved at a slower pace and life felt just a bit simpler.

The Model A has been on the road for almost a century, but it has found a new purpose in this season of my life. It's more than just a restoration project.

Stay tuned. Andy’s 30 and I have miles of memories left to make.

Quietly Making Noise,
Fletch