Being ambivalent about most things allows me the freedom to sit on the fence for a spell and see both sides of the pasture. Then I don't have to jump off unprepared and step in the manure. That's the way I like it.
When I look back on America’s love affair with the automobile in the mid-20th Century, what I remember most about it was that it was both a wonderful thing and a ridiculous social phenomenon at the same time. But it was a great time to be alive and your car was as much a part of who and what you were as anything else and most Americans wouldn't have it any other way.
Cars in the 1950s and 1960s were very distinctive looking and there was a lot to look at. Not like the clones today, which are first designed in the wind tunnel for fuel efficiency and then copycat designed for style, with that cowardly fear of losing a particular market share as the second driving force. Back then, however, no one gave a damn about gas mileage and, back in the Fifties and Sixties, being different was an automaker’s key to marketing success.
Fins were in, especially on Cadillacs, Chryslers and Plymouths, despite the fact that they served no aerodynamic function whatsoever. But they looked really cool to me, as a kid growing up at that time, like fins on a rocket ship. Today they would look nothing but ridiculous but I’d love to see them make a comeback. Along with the fender. And, while they’re at it, they might as well throw in the running board. It made a great step for kids and older people.
And, man, did these big, boxy babies have real power steering and power brakes or what? You could literally stop on a dime if you touched that big-ass brake with anything more than just your toe. And you could steer a 1962 Pontiac Catalina (pictured) with only one finger. I once saw a man steer his 1962 Dodge Coronet with just his nose.
A lot of the cars in the 1950s and 1960s also rode like Cadillacs. Hell, just about all of them. They had big, sixteen-inch, bias-ply tires, a massive chassis and thick-rolled bodies that made some of these cars weigh in at two tons or more. I could lay down in the back seat of the 1968 Buick Wildcat I bought in 1980 as a grown man. And my head and feet never touched either door.
I miss the bench seat in front and the shifter on the steering column. That’s back in the days when the ignition key went into a slot on the dashboard. Right next to the Delco radio and the glove compartment with a lock on the door and a light inside. It was big enough to hold your lunch.
I think about those cars a lot these days and I pine away for one every time I squeeze into my aging 2000 Daewoo Lanos and bump my head on the rearview mirror and skin my knee on the door handle. But at least it still hasn’t rusted in the seven years I’ve been driving it. And that’s worth an awful lot to me.
When I look back on America’s love affair with the automobile in the mid-20th Century, what I remember most about it was that it was both a wonderful thing and a ridiculous social phenomenon at the same time. But it was a great time to be alive and your car was as much a part of who and what you were as anything else and most Americans wouldn't have it any other way.
Cars in the 1950s and 1960s were very distinctive looking and there was a lot to look at. Not like the clones today, which are first designed in the wind tunnel for fuel efficiency and then copycat designed for style, with that cowardly fear of losing a particular market share as the second driving force. Back then, however, no one gave a damn about gas mileage and, back in the Fifties and Sixties, being different was an automaker’s key to marketing success.
Fins were in, especially on Cadillacs, Chryslers and Plymouths, despite the fact that they served no aerodynamic function whatsoever. But they looked really cool to me, as a kid growing up at that time, like fins on a rocket ship. Today they would look nothing but ridiculous but I’d love to see them make a comeback. Along with the fender. And, while they’re at it, they might as well throw in the running board. It made a great step for kids and older people.
And, man, did these big, boxy babies have real power steering and power brakes or what? You could literally stop on a dime if you touched that big-ass brake with anything more than just your toe. And you could steer a 1962 Pontiac Catalina (pictured) with only one finger. I once saw a man steer his 1962 Dodge Coronet with just his nose.
A lot of the cars in the 1950s and 1960s also rode like Cadillacs. Hell, just about all of them. They had big, sixteen-inch, bias-ply tires, a massive chassis and thick-rolled bodies that made some of these cars weigh in at two tons or more. I could lay down in the back seat of the 1968 Buick Wildcat I bought in 1980 as a grown man. And my head and feet never touched either door.
I miss the bench seat in front and the shifter on the steering column. That’s back in the days when the ignition key went into a slot on the dashboard. Right next to the Delco radio and the glove compartment with a lock on the door and a light inside. It was big enough to hold your lunch.
I think about those cars a lot these days and I pine away for one every time I squeeze into my aging 2000 Daewoo Lanos and bump my head on the rearview mirror and skin my knee on the door handle. But at least it still hasn’t rusted in the seven years I’ve been driving it. And that’s worth an awful lot to me.
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