“How about winning another race?” Cooper suggested. “They’re pulling one off in Ohio this fall.”
“No, it must be right here, so I can take my men out and let them see it,” Couzens objected. “It takes a lot to jar any money loose from those fellows.”
“I could enter at the Grosse Point tracks next spring,” Ford said. “But it wouldn’t show them any more than they’ve already seen, if I race the same car. I can’t afford to build another one.”
He was still in debt to Coffee Jim for the cost of his first racer. Coffee Jim, professing himself satisfied with the results of the race—doubtless he had judiciously placed some bets on it—had left Detroit in the meantime, but Ford nevertheless counted the loan among his liabilities.
“Think you can beat that car?” Cooper inquired.
“I know I can,” Ford replied quietly.
“Then you go to it and build her. I’ll back the scheme,” Cooper said.
It was another debt on Ford’s shoulders, but he accepted it and immediately began to work on another racer. With the intention of startling Couzens’s group of sedate business men, he obeyed Cooper’s injunction to “build her big—the roof’s the limit.” The result was certainly startling.
Four enormous cylinders gave that engine eighty horsepower. When it was finished and Cooper and Ford took it out one night for a trial, people started from their sleep for blocks about the Ford house. The noise of the engine could be heard miles. Flames flashed from the motor. In the massive framework was one seat. Cooper stood thunderstruck while Ford got in and grasped the tiller.
“Good Lord, how fast do you figure she’ll do?” he asked.