Old Cars Reader Story: The Family Ford
Old Cars reader, Lester Jr. Brookshire tells the tale of his one-family-owned 1956 Customline Fordor.
Story by Lester JR Brookshire
I have long loved the 1956 Ford. My father bought this 1956 Ford Customline sedan as a demonstrator, so it was never sold to anyone but my family. Our neighbor was Mr. Gaines Prater, founder of Prater Ford in Calhoun, Ga. (His grandson is currently the owner of the dealership.) In those days, at least in our little town, Ford would supply the owner of a dealership and his wife with a new car to drive around as an advertisement each year. At the end of the year, the car would be sold as a demonstrator. Unfortunately for Mr. Prater, his wife fell in love with the blue-and-white ’56 and would not give it up, even after the model year passed. She insisted Mr. Prater buy it for her. He thought this unwise and refused (at least this is what he told my dad). I was standing in the yard at 11 or 12 years of age when Mr. Prater pulled in and related his predicament to my dad. Mr. Prater was a family friend, but also an astute businessman. He knew my dad would never buy a new car, always wanted a bargain and he knew our cars were old. He gave my dad a price, handed him the keys, said drive it for a week or two, then give me your answer. Then he walked across the street to his house. My dad bought the car.
In the summer of 1965, I was a sophomore at Berry College in Rome, Ga., and freshmen were not allowed to have a car. My parents offered me my choice of their aged family cars. One was a Sweptwing Dodge that had been a Georgia State Patrol vehicle with an enormous engine. They thought I’d surely take it. The other I loved and still do. It was the pretty family car, the blue-and-white 1956 Ford Customline. I worked third shift in a rug mill for college money during the summer and had Prater Ford rebuild the motor and transmission. I’m still using that transmission in 2025.
When Wanda and I were dating as college students, we were driving to Rome, Ga., listening to Petula Clark’s “Downtown” on my ’56 Ford’s AM radio when she gave the car a name. I had told her about my favorite childhood bicycle that was blue with white stripes and named Bessy. Remembering this, Wanda said Bessy would be a perfect name for the car. That was summer 1965, and everyone has called the car Bessy since.
I dated in it, married with it and drove that car for 17 years. My wife and I graduated from Berry in it, brought our daughter home from the hospital in it, drove it to earn my master’s degree and she hers. We would retire it, and when a current car would break down, we would pull it out and drive it another year.
Finally, I built my own home and parked the old Ford in the basement. Then decades went by. My first grandchild loved that car as a toddler, washing it with buckets of water. When she was in high school, we did the mechanical work together, replacing spark plugs, points and condenser, rotor, cap, plug wires, carburetor and fuel pump, all rubber under the hood and new gas. The third time we cranked, it fired up! I put new tires on it and we had such fun driving about. That is until she wanted to drive it to her junior prom. I took a new look at the Ford: faded original paint, original interior falling apart. Nope, this won’t do. I had it repainted the original blue with a white top. I wanted a frame-off restoration, but the antique car expert I used said, “That would be a waste of money. No rust anywhere on this car; it’s a time capsule. I’ll take out the seats, seal inside and under, and it will never rust.” I did have the rear bumper rechromed.
When my granddaughter Emily saw it, she was thrilled. She drove it to two proms and she used it as a prop when she did modeling work. When she won a full scholarship to Berry College, she drove it to classes at times.
I told Emily it’s hers when she wants it. She has chosen to leave it with me in the meantime. She’s married now, to a Berry boy just as my wife and I married as Berry kids. She has a doctor’s degree in OT and a 2-year-old little boy. I’m 80 now and a great-grandfather, and custodian of a 1956 Ford that has never been out of my family. I still think it’s the prettiest thing around. Emily agrees with me.
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