Charlevoix — I learned to drive a time machine this summer: the 1925 Ford Model T.

On Clark Road, a two-lane dirt-and-gravel byway, I shifted into second gear, released the clutch, and headed south through farm country back to the early 20^th century. Today, the best-selling vehicle in America is a Ford F-series pickup. One hundred years ago, the best-seller was the Model T. Everything — and not much — has changed.

Like F-series, the Model T was wildly popular in part because you could put a variety of top-hats on its rugged ladder-frame chassis for commercial and private purposes: pickup, tow rig, farm plow, two-door coupe, four-door family wagon. The latter is how most of us think of the Model T, and, indeed, my 1925 tester was a classic four-door Touring model.

Henry Payne, The Detroit News

Think of it like a 2025 Ford Expedition SUV, which is based on the similar ladder-frame platform to the F-Series and outfitted with a similar gas drivetrain. Combined Expedition SUV and F-series pickup sales will reach over 800,000 units this year. Model T sales in 1925? Over 2 million. Woof.

So ubiquitous are F-Series models today that many of us learned to drive in them. On neighborhood roads. On farms. On country roads. So, too, the Model T in 1925. By 1925, there were more than 15 million Tin Lizzies (as they were fondly nicknamed) on the road, including my tester.

Richard Leatherman learned to drive my tester on Mississippi country roads a century ago. His granddaughter, Mary, now owns the car, and it was restored to original specs by her husband, John Dean, an adventure enthusiast — and my driving instructor.

Like the black Ford Expedition Tremor I tested last May, the black, left-hand driver Model T sits high off the ground on big, high-profile tires, and I stepped into the cabin via a running board. Unlike the Expedition, I entered via the right-hand door, because … there is no left-hand door.

On a beautiful summer day, the T’s windows were open … because there are no windows on the Touring model. The convertible is outfitted somewhat like a Ford Bronco with a soft-top that takes some effort to take off. How were passengers protected from the elements? Plastic windows were available to secure to the sides.

Like an Expedition, T has plentiful head room and the second-row passenger seats are palatial. Not so the fronts, which were cramped with my 6’5” frame sharing the space with multiple levers, pedals, and a 17-inch steering wheel (the Expedition’s wheel is 16 inches). To fit my size 15 feet into the busy footwell, I donned my narrow racing boots.

Seat belts? Reclining seats? Heated seats? Massage seats? Fuhgeddaboudit.

Cramped. 6’5″ Detroit News columnist Payne could barely fit his frame into the 1925 Ford Model T seat.

Henry Payne, The Detroit News

I cut my teeth on a manual five-speed transmission BMW 1600 in the 1970s. Its three-pedal operation was a cinch compared to Tin Lizzie. Eager for automotive independence, I had no choice but to learn the wee Bimmer when I was 16 years old — and Model T drivers had to master its unique system if they wanted to drive in ‘25.

The Model T starting procedure involved a checklist as long as my arm.

1) Check that the handbrake on the left floor is pulled back

2) Pull out the choke

3) Twist the fuel mixture lever 1½ turns to the left.

4) Adjust the accelerator stalk (that’s right, the accelerator is a stalk, not a pedal) on the right-side of the steering column ¼-turn downward.

5) Check that the spark-plug adjustment lever on the left-side of the column is in the up position.

6) Compress the engine brake (the right floor pedal) with your right foot.

7) Turn the dashboard key to the left to wake the 6-volt (not 12-volt as in a modern Ford) battery.

8) Move my left heel backward and press the starter button on the floor.

9) R-R-R-R-VROOOM. When the engine catches, turn the key back to right so the 6-volt battery hands off electronic engine duties to the Model T’s Magneto system.

10) Rotate the fuel mixture back to a quarter turn.

11) Remove your right foot from the engine brake, and move the handbrake forward with your left hand to the neutral position.

12) While easing on the clutch with your left foot (that’s right, you compress the clutch in first gear rather than disengaging as with modern manuals), push the handbrake forward to completely disengage it.

13) To gain speed, push the accelerator stalk downward.

Simple, yes?

This ballet of controls requires practice to get right, and gets more trying when starting on grade. Once up to speed, the Tin Lizzie and I engaged in a new dance to get into second gear, where most cruising is done.

With the four-cylinder engine in front of me roaring at high RPMs, I eased off the clutch while performing a yo-yo motion with the accelerator to engage second gear. The Model T picked up speed and I tore around Charlevoix’s roads at … about 25-35 mph.

If I kept my foot — er, right hand — in it, the Ford would eventually get up to a speed of 45 mph on smooth asphalt roads. But in 1925, outside of cities like Detroit, roads were dirt like Clark Road and you had to be careful of uneven patches — not to mention horse and auto traffic coming the other way.

The Model T purred along with a lively clatter. Sound deadening has isolated today’s engines to the point that cabins have become rolling living rooms complete with stereo systems, Google Map navigation, even video screens. All that capability has added cost, and an Expedition starts at $62K in 2025 compared to a $5K Model T in today’s dollars.

The only audio entertainment in the ol’ T is the engine and nature. So loud was the four-banger that I had to raise my voice to John Dean next to me.

Heading up a long, steep incline on Novotny Road, I kept the throttle wide open to make it to the top. Long family trips in 1925 must have been trying, especially as you added weight to the car. Not just passengers, but gas cans strapped to the running boards given spotty refueling infrastructure. The Model T’s nine-gallon tank was good for about 130 miles at 14 mpg.

Dean and his Northern Michigan T Club take to the roads each fall for a tour up the Lake Michigan coast. Fluids are a constant worry.

Model T oil is filled underneath the engine, while filling the fuel tank requires pulling up the front seat. The fuel then runs “downhill” into the engine carburetor. According to Model T legend, if you ran low on gas while climbing, say, Novotny Road in Charlevoix, the solution was to turn the car around and scale the road in reverse.

Reverse gear, by the way, is a third floor pedal — in between the clutch and engine brake.

Ah, yes, brakes. Purring along Loeb Road, I started braking for a STOP sign intersection looooong before I got there by backing off the accelerator and applying the engine brake. The emergency brake is jarring and for emergencies only.

At the intersection of Loeb and M-66, I watched modern cars fly by, including Expeditions, F-150s, F-250s — the Model T’s modern, ladder-frame descendants.

When a gap opened, I eased off the handbrake, pushed in the clutch and eased my 1925 time machine back into 2025.

1925 Ford Model T Touring

Vehicle type: Front-engine, rear-wheel-drive, five-passenger automobile

Price: About $5,000 in today’s dollars

Powerplant: 2.9-liter inline-4 cylinder

Power: 20 horsepower, 83 pound-feet of torque

Transmission: Two-speed manual

Performance: 0-60 mph, NA; top speed, 45 mph

Weight: 1,950 pounds

Fuel economy: 14 mpg estimated; range, 126 miles

Report card

Highs: Affordable; roomy with good visibility

Lows: Complicated operating procedure; tight cockpit

Overall: 4  stars

Henry Payne is auto critic for The Detroit News. Find him at hpayne@detroitnews.com or @HenryEPayne.