Travelling the Grand Canyon in a Metz 22 Speedster (1914): A Brass-Era Endurance Test Like No Other
- dthholland
- 1 day ago
- 11 min read
Imagine pointing a brass-era automobile towards the rim of the Grand Canyon—with no map, no road, and barely any certainty that you’ll come back in one piece. In 1914, that’s exactly what Mr. L. Wing and a young journalist, K. Parker, set out to do in a 22-horsepower Metz Speedster.
Today’s motorists might think twice before tackling the steep gravel inclines of national parks in a well-equipped 4x4, let alone a two-seat, friction-drive roadster from the early twentieth century. But in an era where car manufacturers lived and died by public demonstrations of mechanical grit, journeys like this weren’t just acts of audacity—they were clever marketing strategies.
Testing the Limits: Metz and the Endurance Culture of Early Motoring
At the time, early carmakers such as the Metz Company needed more than brochures to make a sale. What sold a car was proof: mechanical endurance under conditions that bordered on absurd. Tests through deserts, mountains, and rocky trails were paraded in news stories and sales leaflets alike. “If it can survive that,” buyers were assured, “it can handle your Sunday picnic.”
The Metz Company, established by Charles Herman Metz in Waltham, Massachusetts, was among those pioneers. Known for producing reliable but affordable vehicles, Metz earned modest fame as the “winner of the Glidden Tour” and for its unique friction-drive transmission. The 1914 Metz Model 22 boasted a 22 hp (17 kW) water-cooled engine, Bosch magneto, artillery wheels, and a gearless drive—all cutting-edge features for the era.
But in a competitive market, being good on paper wasn’t enough. And so, in a move that merged equal parts adventure, engineering, and PR, Metz’s Los Angeles branch manager Mr. L. Wing, with journalist K. Parker along for the ride, set their sights on the bottom of the Grand Canyon.
The Route: From Los Angeles to the Colorado River
Their journey began in Los Angeles, travelling east through the blistering sands south of Death Valley. Even this portion would have tested most drivers—over hundreds of miles of desolate terrain, they faced dust storms, fierce heat, and scarce access to food or water. The route demanded careful planning, particularly when it came to carrying enough fuel, food, and camping gear to survive long, uninhabited stretches.
They crossed the Colorado River at Needles and climbed over three mountain ranges with elevations from 3,000 to 5,000 feet. These rugged ascents were punctuated by plunging valleys, scorching desert flats, and treacherous lava beds that could rip a tyre to shreds or shear an axle clean off.
With each mile, the Metz 22 proved itself—not only capable of enduring the elements but doing so on its own mechanical strength. No tow ropes. No recovery vehicles. Just a two-seater brass car carving a path through some of the most unforgiving terrain in the American Southwest.
The Descent into the Grand Canyon
Having survived that leg of the journey, the pair arrived at the El Tovar Hotel, perched on the Grand Canyon’s South Rim. They scouted for a path to descend to the Colorado River far below but found nothing feasible. There was, after all, no proper road to the bottom. Eventually, they discovered a steep gorge at Peach Springs, a remote station on the Santa Fe Railway. From there, the real descent began.
They passed through the Hulapi Indian Reservation, navigating arroyos, washouts, and narrow gullies barely wide enough for a car. The terrain was brutal—deep sand, boulders, sheer drop-offs, and sharp switchbacks characterised the 42-mile descent to the river.
Parker later described the moment they posed the Metz on a ledge at El Tovar Point:
“There was a sheer wall at this point, making a clean drop of over two thousand feet, and the ledge projected so that we could run the car out to the extreme point… It took a lot of grit to drive the car right towards that fearful plunge, but Mr. Wing… did not put on the brakes until the front wheels were right at the very edge of the precipice.”
This wasn’t just marketing flair—it was a calculated risk taken to showcase the car’s control, reliability, and sheer nerve. Few vehicles then or now could claim to have gone to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back under their own power. For the Metz Speedster, the successful climb back up was perhaps even more impressive than the descent.
The Car That Could: Metz 22’s Technical Specs
The 1914 Metz Model 22 wasn’t a luxury automobile—it was a modestly priced car for early middle-class buyers, often sold in kit form or “assembled” from parts. But it was cleverly engineered:
22 hp four-cylinder water-cooled engine
Bosch magneto ignition system
Friction-drive (gearless) transmission
Full-elliptic springs for better shock absorption
Artillery wheels with Goodrich clincher tyres
Acetylene headlights powered by a Prest-O-Lite-type generator
It was light, simple, and robust—an ideal combination for pioneering trips across wild country. The friction-drive mechanism, often mocked by rival manufacturers, proved its worth in the variable terrain, offering smooth changes of speed and no gear slippage on steep grades.
The End of Metz: A Legacy in Dust and Steel
By the early 1920s, the American auto industry had moved into a new phase of competition. Larger firms consolidated their dominance, and smaller manufacturers like Metz struggled to keep up. In 1922, the company filed for bankruptcy, and despite attempts to revive the brand under the “Waltham Six,” the effort failed.
Still, the name Metz remains one of the more remarkable early motoring stories—not just for its technology, but for the sheer daring shown in proving what their cars could do. While other manufacturers kept to smoother terrain and city streets, Metz chose a more dramatic test: take the car to the bottom of one of the world’s deepest canyons—and then bring it back up again.
The 1914 Metz Grand Canyon expedition isn’t just a quirky tale from the brass-era of motoring. It’s a reminder of how early car makers saw challenges not as obstacles, but as opportunities. These were the proving grounds where engineering met storytelling, where practical mechanics and raw adventure sold vehicles just as much as torque and horsepower ever could.
And as for Wing and Parker? They proved what a Metz could do—not in a showroom, but out in the raw, untamed landscape of the American West. They didn’t just talk about performance—they drove it, teetered it on the edge of cliffs, and ground it through the depths of a national treasure.
Below is the original report of the trip written by O.K. Parker, the Los Angeles reporter who accompanied Mr. L. Wing down the Grand Canyon.
Through The Grand Canyon in 1914 to the Colorado River in a Metz 22 Speedster
To the bottom of the Grand Canyon by automobile was probably the most strenuous undertaking ever carried out in the annals of American motoring.
To make that trip and to return to the plateau thousands of feet above, all on the car’s own power, negotiating deep sand arroyos, frightfully steep grades, great boulder-filled gorges, and slimy mud flats, is a feat extraordinary.
Yet it has been accomplished by Mr. L. Wing, of the Metz Agency in Los Angeles, accompanied by the writer in a 22-horsepower Metz car of the roadster type.
There is no road to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, only an intersecting gorge leading from Peach Springs, a little station on the Santa Fe Railroad.
The gorge from Peach Springs cuts down through the plateau, deeper and deeper, until its walls join those of the main gorge, through which the Colorado River forces its turbulent way, nearly a mile below the level of the surface above.
The entire route from Los Angeles to Peach Springs, where the descent into Grand Canyon actually commences, is through the sand deserts south of Death Valley, and across the Colorado River, at Needles.
This part of the trip alone is a severe test of both automobile and man, as it involves long stretches of torrid desert wastes where water, food, and camping equipment are essential to the safety of the traveller.
In addition to the bothersome sands of the Colorado Basin, three mountain ranges have to be crossed, at altitudes of from three thousand to five thousand feet.
Through this diversity of elevation, alternating with nearly sea-level depressions of the dreaded “blow” sands of the desert, the road skirts for many miles great uplifts of jagged black lava; and when the obstructions cannot be avoided, they have to be negotiated with great care
This combination of mountains, deserts, sands, and lava, makes the road a difficult one to travel, and demonstrates the real power and dependability of a car.
Once a test like this is successfully passed, the motorist feels that his machine has the stamina to tackle even the dreaded gorge on the way to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.
Before making the descent, we wanted to drive the car to the rim of the canyon, so we took the conventional route through the pine forest to the Bright Angel Trail and the El Tovar Hotel, 587 miles from Los Angeles and sixty-five miles from Williams, AZ.
At the El Tovar we were told that the few automobiles visiting the Canyon always stopped at the end of the road, near the hotel.
There was a sheer wall at this point, making a clean drop of over two thousand feet, and the ledge projected so that we could run the car out to the extreme point, and make a photographic record of the Metz on the Canyon rim at El Tovar Point.
It took a lot of grit to drive the car right towards that fearful plunge, but Mr. Wing, who handled the wheel, had every confidence in the car and its control and did not put on the breaks until the front wheels were right at the very edge of the precipice.
I confess that it made me shudder with apprehension, as I watched him, so cool and confident, driving where one little slip would mean a plunge of two thousand feet into the gorge below; and when he finally said, ” that will do, let’s chuck block her,” I was only too glad to slip a good sized rock in front of the rear wheel, so we could leave the car and size up the situation for a photograph.
After a day spent at the Canyon’s rim, where we camped near the Bright Angel Trail, we drove back to Williams, and then to Peach Springs, for the final test of the stability of the car in negotiating the downward trip to the bottom of the Canyon.
That night, as we talked of the struggles through and over the rocks and sands that must be made next day in getting down Peach Springs Gorge and Diamond Creek.
We speculated on our chances of getting through without accident, and, to safeguard our return, in case the car should fail us, we arranged with Mr. Willetts, Superintendent of the Hualapai Indian Reservation, that if we did not return the second night he was to send an Indian and two extra saddle horses, together with a little emergency grub, to meet us wherever we might be stalled in the Canyon.
As it turned out, however, as strenuous as the trip was, we had no occasion or need for other that the car’s own power; and while it took us a whole day to make the downward trip, and another day to get back up to the plateau, we made the journey and returned to Los Angeles without so much as breaking a single part.
The total distance travelled from Los Angeles and return was approximately 1,400 miles; and the actual descent into the Grand Canyon, and the climb back to the surface, consumed 42 miles.
It might be truthfully said that every foot of this distance was rough going, yet not a single adjustment to the car was necessary. Never did we use a wrench to tighten a bolt or nut.
To describe our trip in detail, to the bottom of the Canyon, would fill a whole book. What I wish to bring out, as a matter of most interest to drivers of cars, and the intended purchasers of cars, are some of the obstacles we had to contend with.
In places, the bed of the wash became so narrow that the car would not pass through, so we were obliged to back up, sometimes several hundred yards, until we found a place where the car could pull itself up out of the bed of the wash.
In places, the grade was 25 to 30 percent, and only the remarkable pulling qualities of the fiber grip transmission enabled us to get over the terrific deposits of debris and boulders that mark the accumulation of ages.
After passing these narrow points we were, of course, obliged to drop down into the wash again, and frequently encountered boulders that had become blocked in the bed of the wash, and piled up, presenting an obstacle formidable enough to discourage the stoutest heart – and you would think – to put out or commission the toughest car. But the way our Metz climbed over that stuff was almost unbelievable, now as I think back on it.
It was necessary, at times, for the engine to force the wheels up onto boulders from eighteen inches to three feet high, and we were constantly forced to watch our clearance, as a false move would have brought our wild ride to an abrupt end.
The twisting and straining of the axles, springs and frame of the car was almost beyond the endurance of steel. For an example of extreme flexibility, one can hardly equal it.
At times, the car forcing its way over those big piles of boulders, became so distorted that the rear wheels would be tilted at an angle of 30 degrees in one direction, while the front wheels were tilted at an angle of 20 or 30 degrees in the opposite direction. A bigger heavier car would never have withstood the strain.
During this whole distance of seventeen miles from pump house to the river, it was one continuous fight against obstacles, which on an ordinary country road would have immediately been judged impassable.
Darkness overtook us when we were still one and one-half miles from the bottom of the Canyon. We camped here for the night, and some night it was!
About 10:30 it began to rain, and within a few minutes, we were drenched to the skin by one of the severest thunderstorms I have ever seen.
It was a fitting end to a day of great effort to overcome nature’s obstacles. It seemed as if Nature herself was trying to punish us for attempting to invade her virgin pastures with a modern Roadster speed devil.
But at daybreak we were at it again, and from this point on we had one more foe to conquer – quicksands. Just beyond our camp Diamond Creek empties into the wash, and turns its bed in many places into bottomless quicksands. Here caution was to no avail, rapid action was imperative.
Where we were obliged to cross the stream it was simply a series of rushes from one side to the other. To get stuck meant to loose the car, for good and all; but we managed to get over these traps without getting caught.
There was one point in the last mile that seriously threatened us with defeat. In front of us lay a group of big boulders, each several times bigger than the car itself.
There was no way around the obstacle. The big gaps between the boulders were impassable. But the Colorado River was almost in sight – we couldn’t loose now!
With the strength of despair we carried smaller boulders, and rolled bigger ones, into those gaps, and then piled bushes and anything we could get hold of, on top of them, to make a path for the car to climb over.
We reached the river at eleven o’clock in the morning and dipped our wheels into it before starting back.
Our experiences stood us in good stead upon the return trip and we made remarkable time. The car showed to great advantage on the hills and negotiated them with an ease and sureness that surprised even we two who had become rather injured from witnessing each achievement of the car on the downward trail.
Now, instead of being experimenters, so to speak, we were tourists, and I can assure you we keenly enjoyed the exhilarating trip to the top, and it was with no little satisfaction that we looked back from each new height gained with the thought that we were probably the first to make the trip in this way.
