Everyone’s particular taste in vehicles comes from somewhere, usually some amalgam of early childhood exposure, covetous teenage desire and you’re unique taste-triangulation point in the flash/esoteric/performance matrix. It’s safe to say that my own love for older vehicles which aren’t necessarily beautiful, but are long on character, started with this most beloved of rides: The Splat.

The Splat has been in my family since it was purchased new by my Great Grandmother at the Ford dealership. It’s probably safer to call it a 1928.5, since the chassis is from the original but just about everything else has been replaced with scavenged parts over the decades. For the last 60+ years it has been under the loving eye/wrench of my Uncle Wint who has kept it on the road and in our family’s heart. Generations have learned to drive stick on it’s tractor-like transmission and I can honestly say that there are too many stories involving this car to relate in 20 posts. Suffice it to say that I consider it a great honor to be the recipient of Wint’s knowledge and love for the car as we seek to ensure it continues to weave along the roads of NH for generations more.

Wint’s approach has always been one that emphasizes utility, humor and good old Yankee ingenuity over gloss and polish; myself, the splat and our big crazy family will happily soldier on under those governing principals for years to come.

This past weekend was July 4th and, as is our annual tradition, we loaded The Splat up with all the family member’s she’d hold and entered the parade. Everyone gets pretty excited about this annual rite; young and old alike.

I’m pleased to report that we suffered no serious mechanical issues along the way and we took home a gleaming yellow third place ribbon. The fact that there were only three cars entered in our class in no way diminishes our pride in the accomplishment. We never thought much of those priss gussied-up resto-jobs anyway!