KALONA

Don Patterson talks to his cars.

“It’s not rational for a pastor to do, but yeah, I do,” he admits on an overcast day at the end of January.

He won’t, however, concede that cars have souls.

“I think they all have personalities, but it’s not formed by a soul. It’s just their way of doing things,” he says. “If you at least don’t get angry with them, and reason with them, they seem to pull through.”

On this morning, Molly, his beloved 1924 Model T, could not be reasoned with. After a week of pipe-bursting overnight lows, it was hard to blame her, even if this day’s temperatures reached the 30s. Her battery was a little low, and “my Model T’s don’t like the cold weather,” Patterson explained.

Even so, his affection endures for Molly, the only one of his four antique cars that he has named. There may come a time when others want the other three – a 1925 Chevrolet Superior K, a 1929 Model A Phaeton, and the 1931 Model A that took him to the church that morning —more than he does, but when it comes to Molly. . .

“Molly probably won’t leave the family, I hope,” he says. “I just have a lot of feelings for that old car.”

How did a pastor at Kalona Mennonite Church become so endeared to a 100-year-old motor car?

His affection has familial roots.

“My grandmother used to tell stories, because she was a schoolteacher and needed a way to get back and forth to school from home,” he says.

She had a Model T, probably about a 1918, that didn’t have a starter, so she would jack up the back wheel, put it in high gear, and then start cranking it over.

“I grew up with stories of grandma and her Model T,” he says.

Patterson has parts from his great uncle’s 1916 Model T, and his mom told stories of growing up with a Model A.

“She has stories of putting the chickens in the backseat to take them to town and always having crates of eggs in the car,” he says.

This personal history created an early love for classic cars, but Patterson didn’t indulge it until about 2005 when he saw the black 1924 Model T four-door sedan for sale.

“It looked good on eBay, but when we got down there [to Gatesville, Texas], we actually had to take a rope and tie the pieces of the body together so they wouldn’t fly off the trailer as we came home,” he recalls. “It was in such poor condition.”

Randy Yoder helped him bring the vehicle back to Kalona, and then Patterson took it to Lester Yoder, also a classic car guy, to look it over.

“He said, ‘Well, Don, I think you’re gonna have a lot of work in that one.’ And so I did. It wasn’t until 2011 we had it running and driving and parade-ready,” Patterson says.

Molly had originated from Tennessee, and it was full of grease with red mud stuck to it.

“I had to think, who drove it last? How did it end up like this?” Patterson says. “I kept thinking a little old lady probably drove it as long as she drove, and then somebody stuck it in the back corner of a shed until they needed to get rid of it, because when I stripped it, it was original paint. It came off in sheets. It looked like it had been put on with a garden hose, just like Henry [Ford] did. And yet, when the paint came off the metal, it was shiny. It just blew me out of the water.”

When the restoration work was completed, Randy’s son took it to the IMS banquet that spring, its first public outing.

Ultimately, it was that effort – and those personal connections – that made Molly a true member of the family.

“I think when you invest emotional energy in it, as much as blood, sweat, and tears,” is what makes a vehicle meaningful, Patterson suggests. “Molly was special. A dear friend helped me get it and walked me through the restoration.”

One might think that a 1920’s Model T would be a rare thing, especially considering our throw-away society in which cars over 20 years old generally get sold to salvage yards. But not so, Patterson says; the Model T was probably more mass produced than any individual model is today. He suspects there are over 100,000 of them still on the roads.

In fact, when Patterson needs a part for his Model T or Model A, he just orders it through Napa Auto Parts. “They’re timeless Ford parts,” he says.

“What Henry [Ford] wanted was to produce something that would serve the needs of the heartland, and it did,” he explains. “That’s why there are so many left today. That’s how he got into mass production. The need was great. As the Industrial Revolution came to the farm, it was the one that filled that niche for transportation.”

Patterson’s classic cars are relatively simple to fix. He’s able to do almost all his own work with the skills he learned from growing up on a farm and working in an auto shop while in college. When a repair is beyond him, he has local experts he can call upon, including Dean Yoder and Joe Swartzentruber.

Unlike modern cars, there are no computers or sensors to worry about.

“They’re very basic,” Patterson says. “There’s not anything too complicated about any of it. That’s why it fits me so well. I’m an uncomplicated fellow, and it fits my mechanical background.”

What they aren’t is intuitive to drive. With the Model T’s planetary transmission, throttle controls and accelerators on the steering wheel, and only a service brake on the back wheels, it takes some work to figure out. So much so, that Patterson “can park that in Kalona and not worry about it getting stolen,” he says, because no one can figure it out.

But driving antique cars is what he loves, and Patterson does it as often as he can. The pastor enjoys being a part of car shows and parades, although “they often happen on Sunday and I have a pretty full Sunday,” he says.

Aside from the day of rest, you’re likely to catch him out any summer evening in Kalona.

“Most of the time, Sharlene and I just enjoy getting out for an evening and driving uptown and usually end up at Yotty’s for some ice cream. And the dog enjoys that too.”