Milton Reeves had a very hard head and, apparently, very poor eyesight.
While the general conformation of the automobile was largely sorted out
in the first decade of the 20th century — particularly that business
about four wheels — Reeves thought perhaps eight or a minimum of six
wheels might provide a smoother ride. Welding in some bits to a 1910
Overland and adding two more axles and four more guncart-style wheels,
Reeves created the OctoAuto, proudly displaying it at the inaugural
Indianapolis 500. Like its Marvel Comics-worthy name, the car was a bit
of a monster, measuring over 20 ft. long. Talk about scaring the horses.
Zero orders for the patently ugly and silly OctoAuto apparently didn't
discourage Reeves, who tried again the next year with the Sextauto (six
wheels, single front axle design). Reeves is remembered today as the
inventor of the muffler, which is far from ignominy.
What makes a car bad? Is it the car with the worst exterior styling? The most dreadful interior? The most uncomfortable ride? The least reliable/most poorly made? Or is it a dismal combination of all these factors? For our purposes, the worst car in the world is not only the vehicle that incorporates the most of these negative traits, but also more importantly, has no redeeming qualities of what makes a car great whatsoever.
Friday, December 11, 2015
1909 Ford Model T
Uh-oh. Here comes trouble. Let's stipulate that the Model T did
everything that the history books say: It put America on wheels,
supercharged the nation's economy and transformed the landscape in ways
unimagined when the first Tin Lizzy rolled out of the factory. Well,
that's just the problem, isn't it? The Model T — whose mass production
technique was the work of engineer William C. Klann, who had visited a
slaughterhouse's "disassembly line" — conferred to Americans the notion
of automobility as something akin to natural law, a right endowed by our
Creator. A century later, the consequences of putting every living soul
on gas-powered wheels are piling up, from the air over our cities to
the sand under our soldiers' boots. And by the way, with its
blacksmithed body panels and crude instruments, the Model T was a piece
of junk, the Yugo of its day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)