Henry Ford version in a 1954 collection of inspirational tales:
Honk-honk, honk-honk, honk-honk-honk. The old-fashioned horn was bellowing as the mechanical contraption came around the bend and rushed along the dusty road. The engine was roaring and the radiator hissing as the long suffering warrior did twenty-five miles per hour. It was one of the earliest Ford cars; the Methuselah of engineering. Men said it would never die a natural death: it would either commit suicide or be smashed by modern unpredictables. Honk-honk, chug-chug-chug; and the wizened old farmer, with a thick growth of beard darkening his chin, steered his car homeward.
Suddenly, ahead of him he saw a beautiful car drawn up by the roadside. It was an immaculate product of modern engineering. Long and low, its lines were fascinating; but it was at a standstill! As the farmer drew nearer he recognized that some kind of engine trouble had interrupted the progress of the other travellers. The shining bonnet of the beautiful car had been lifted, and the chauffeur, with cap pushed well back on his head, was perplexedly staring at the unresponsive engine.
With a sound of squealing brakes the old car was brought to a halt, and as a rusty door swung open, the farmer came out to ask, "What's wrong?" The stranger responded, "I don't know. The engine has stopped." The newcomer looked inside the bonnet, and then announced his readiness to tow the car to the garage seven miles away. The stranded driver casually lifted his eyebrows and answered, "You'll tow me to the garage!" What with? That!" And his finger indicated the noisy model T. The farmer's chest expanded, and he seemed about to explode; but the eruption died, and he answered, "Yes, with that. You'll see."
He lifted a rope from the back of his car, placed it in position, and said, "Now get in, and I'll show you." Slowly the great car was taken along the roads, and finally, as the garage came into view, the farmer smiled and prepared to stop. "Well! She did it, didn't she?" The two drivers were then joined by a third man, who all the while had been sitting in the back of the broken-down limousine. Quietly he asked, "What do I owe you, sir?" The farmer's eyes narrowed as he repeated, "What do you owe? Nothing. It's a ____ of a do if we can't help each other without being paid for it. No. Nothing. Pleased to help you. Good day." He coiled his rope, climbed into the driving seat, and soon disappeared in a cloud of dust. The silent passenger calmly watched his departure, and then smiled. He nodded and quietly repeated to himself, "It's a ____ of a do if we can't help each other without being paid for it."
In due course the wheezy, asthmatical model T reached the end of its career. It has not been placed on record whether the end came suddenly, or whether the closing months were marred by internal disorders. The fact is that the old car succumbed to the ravages of time, and was given a respectable funeral in the junk yard. The day after the ceremony, the bereaved farmer was somewhat astounded to find a new Ford car standing a few yards from his door. The old man paused. Had someone called? No! He rubbed his eyes; the car was so new, so glossy, so desirable. He walked around it, and then opened the door to inspect the interior. He saw a message written on a label tied to the steering wheel. "It's a ____ of a do if we can't help each other without being paid for it." The passenger who had offered in vain to pay for the towing of his car had been the great manufacturer — Henry Ford. Probably he had been fascinated by the achievement of one of his earlier models, and when its proud owner refused remuneration, he thought of another way to pay his debt. Probably he commissioned the garage owner to keep watch, and when the old model T ceased to function, to present, with Henry Ford's compliments, a new car to the kind-hearted farmer.
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