I hope you read Aaron Robinson’s package about some of our hobby’s earliest cars, anchored by his drive of the fascinating Stutz Bearcat. His deep dive into this sometimes-overlooked chapter of automotive history is both enlightening and entertaining.
For instance, did you know the Brass Era (1905–1914) gets its name from the gleaming brass horns, lights, radiators, and fittings that adorned these early machines? The Ford Model T, Aaron notes, is the poster child of the era, but this golden age of innovation was just one chapter in a much larger story.
Before Brass came the Veteran Era (1886–1904), when the very first automobiles were painstakingly hand-built. These cars were simple and could be temperamental, but they were undeniably pioneering. I’ve had the privilege of driving a 1903 Knox in the legendary London to Brighton Veteran Car Run—the world’s oldest motoring event, whose entrants must have been made before 1905. The Knox features a steering tiller instead of a wheel and a front-mounted crank starter, which, as the original instructions warn, could easily “break an arm or injure oneself in other ways.” Imagine having to crank-start your modern SUV.
Following the Brass Era, the Vintage Era (1915–1929) ushered in mass production, making cars more affordable and practical. Electric starters, improved brakes, and enclosed bodies became the norm, setting the stage for the automotive boom to come.
Of course, the story doesn’t end there. Automotive historians love to debate the boundaries of each era: Prewar (1930–1945), Postwar/Classic (1946–1959), Muscle (1964–1973), and even the so-called Malaise Era (1973–1979). These periods often overlap, sparking endless discussion among enthusiasts. But those earliest cars—the Veterans and Brass beauties—have captured my heart in recent years.
Yes, these cars can be finicky. They’re slow and unreliable by today’s standards, but there’s a thrill in the uncertainty. As David Kibbey, a 19-year-old concours organizer and former youth judge for Hagerty events, puts it: “Part of the appeal with cars of that era is you don’t really know if you’re going to make it to where you’re going. It’s also cool to put yourself in the position of somebody in 1903, 1904, or 1905 who’s trying out this new vehicle for the first time. I equate it to what we saw 10 years ago when Tesla was first coming on the scene, and you had people who dove in headfirst.”
David’s right—there’s a sense of awe when you’re behind the wheel of a machine that has survived more than a century. When I drive the Knox or my ’28 Bentley, I’m reminded of two famous photos of New York’s Fifth Avenue: one teeming with horse-drawn carriages and a single car, the next packed with cars and just one horse. The speed of that transformation is staggering.
And then there’s the sheer delight these cars inspire. Take one out in public and watch as people—young and old—point, smile, and ask questions. Kids are especially enchanted. Doug Tomb, president of the Horseless Carriage Club of America (HCCA), says that when they bring early cars to schools, the children are amazed: “They’re astonished to see what kind of looks like a car but with no electric lights or windows, and a dashboard that is made out of an actual board.”
Perhaps best of all, as Aaron notes, is the community that surrounds these early cars. Though it’s a small slice of the collector world, it’s a passionate and welcoming one. The HCCA boasts 3000 members dedicated to “preserving, restoring, and enjoying early automobiles.” In a world where real connection can feel rare, that kind of camaraderie is something special.
Until next time, keep on driving.
This story first appeared in the July/August 2025 issue of Hagerty Drivers Club magazine. Join the club to receive our award-winning magazine and enjoy insider access to automotive events, discounts, roadside assistance, and more.
There are a number of older cars I would like to drive.
I always wanted to master the Model T to start and drive it. They used to give classes at the Henry Ford Museum
My father was an old car enthusiast. In 1940 he joined his parents and drove from Brooklyn, NY to Colorado in his father’s 1937 Buick Roadmaster Convertible, going up Pikes Peak, taking the Gold Camp Road to Cripple Creek, and generally deciding that someday he would live out west. Fast forward to 1957, when one of his patients arrived at his office in a 1937 Buick Roadmaster Convertible. He offered to buy the car, but was refused until one day the patient arrived at his office and offered to sell the car. He was upset because he had 4 flat tires in one day! So, for ~$100 he obtained a duplicate of his father’s car, which he used as his daily driver into the 1970’s. Unfortunately, only months after he bought the car, it was hit very hard by a new 1958 Ford. He resurrected the car with parts from a 1937 Buick Limited, which made the car drive oddly – left and right turns were different radii. I drove the car when I was in high school in the early 1970’s, then it was stored. In 2003 I inherited the car, and in 2014 I got it out of storage and set about making it roadworthy and driveable, which meant finding the correct front end parts as well as refurbishment of the gas system and radiator. I have been driving it around, and marveling at the stamina my grandfather had driving such a beast thousands of miles across the country. Coming back to my home in the mountains west of Denver on back roads, I imagined what it was like driving on the roads that existed back when my father and grandfather drove from NY to the mountains of Colorado.
I admire their artistry and their ingenuity in answering questions no one ever thought to ask before – like controlling spark advance and where to put the starter switch, but the lower limit I generally put on the year range of my vehicles corresponds with realistically highway drivable