If you've never seen an early automobile called a Kissel Kar before, you're not alone. Two like the 1909 Speedster model I had a chance to ride in last

week are known to exist. In its day, this one, called 6-60 for its 6-cylinder engine rated at 60 horsepower, was considered the pinnacle of automotive

performance. Its owner spent a few minutes explaining what makes the Kissel special, other than the fact that it basically looks like nothing I've ever

seen before.

Founded by Louis Kissel and his two sons in 1906, Kissel Kar produced cars and trucks in Hartford, Wisconsin. Sometime around the First World War, the

company name was changed to Kissel Motor Car Company to avoid anti-German sentiments. While some later Kissels were more mainstream automobiles, the 6-60

was a performance machine. According to its owner, cars like this would often compete in "endurance" races which, at the time, consisted of round-trips

between towns. In 1909, the owner told me, the 6-60 would be the equivalent of a Lamborghini Aventador now, fast, sleek and expensive.

Before setting off for a drive, we did a walk-around to learn more about the vehicle. Under its hood is the big, 505-cubic-inch straight six. Three large

jugs, each housing two cylinders, sit atop its block. The oiling system uses a brass box with a sight glass on the side that indicates oil level. Like a

mechanical fuel injection system, it pumps oil to each cylinder individually. The system is total-loss. When the oil is dirty, the mechanic simply opens

six petcocks in the pan and drains it out.

Details aimed at performance are visible throughout the vehicle. The exhaust system's cast iron pipe allows the muffler to be bypassed, effectively

creating a straight-pipe arrangement. While most vehicles of the time would have fenders and running boards riveted to the chassis, the Kissel's are

bolt-on, so racers could easily remove them. A long rod and turnbuckle cross the length of the frame, enabling simple adjustments to its geometry. From the

ground, the Kissel is as impressive as it is large. It's hard to believe any vehicle with such a high center of gravity would be built for speed.

Sitting on 36-inch tires, the Kissel is tall. I climbed up to its carriage-like pair of seats for a position that's easily higher than today's average

full-size pickup. My driver took his seat, which is on the right, despite the car's American heritage. The Kissel's owner walked to the front of the car

and started the engine with a hand-crank.

The engine isn't loud, but its soundtrack does include a symphony of clicking and tapping as the many mechanical bits do their work. The driver opened a

wooden box on the firewall at our feet, revealing one source of the sounds. A primitive distributor includes a rotating shaft with six lobes, each sending

spark to a cylinder. The first bit of forward motion was tractor-like - the engine revs stayed at fast idle as the driver released the clutch.

We drove down the long driveway and out to a four-lane divided highway. Every single other

driver at least looked at the car, and most smiled and waved. As we reached speeds of 35 or 40 mph - the Kissel has no speedometer - every part of the

vehicle shook, shimmied or vibrated. The flexibility of the chassis was evident on every bump and with each turn.

We passed a Gallardo pulling out of a gas station, and I imagined its driver's disappointment at spending a moment not being the center of attention. We

then found a two-lane that allowed us to better enjoy the car itself, rather than feeling like we were in a parade.

To describe the car as quick would be a huge overstatement, but its torque is always evident. Once the Kissel reaches any kind of speed, only the top

(third) gear is necessary. The driver anticipated stops way ahead of time, since its rear-only brakes are limited in their ability to stop the heavy

vehicle. Despite the weak brakes and relentless chassis and body motion, the Kissel somehow feels sturdy and well-built.

Riding in an old car sometimes gives one the feeling of being transported in time. That was certainly the case for my first-ever ride in a Brass Era car

built more than 100 years ago. I imagined the two-lane road as unpaved, a cloud of dust behind the Kissel. I momentarily saw the four-bedroom houses with

two-car garages disappear from the landscape, leaving only farmland and a few old houses with front porches. I briefly lived the past while clinging to the

fleeting joy of the present. It was one of the coolest rides of my life, and it all happened at under 50 mph.

Modern cars have to hit 150 to make our hearts beat faster. But, it took cars like the Kissel to get there. That's easy to forget when behind the wheel of

a 500-horsepower supercar, so be sure to say "yes" if you have a chance to experience something special and vintage.

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