Vintage Detroit Iron
Saw this car parked behind a suburban professional building in Salt Lake City. Weird juxtaposition of doctors, dentists and this incapacitated Ford LTD.
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I grew up with two Ford station wagons; one right after another. We used them like covered trucks for my mom’s business and they towed our Starcraft popup trailer on family camping trips. The bit of taillight shown in the image is similar to one of the wagons. Those station wagons were massive. Very boaty to drive, but had good power ratio for the weight of the car. My dad could squeal tires driving up Utah canyons with 5-6 kids and the trailer in tow. I recall a Mario Andretti comment from one of my siblings. My dad said something like, “bullshit” or maybe it was one of his invented words. My mom calmed him down and I was bummed. Squealing tires meant excitement and danger. I loved riding in the back of the first wagon. My dad found these pads that were made to fit the car and I would ride, unsecured, sprawled across the back of the car in quite luxurious fashion, reading MAD magazine and whatever comic books I had scrounged for the trip.
I hauled a lot of food, tables, fake ferns, real ferns (it was the 1970s-80s) and other wedding decorations in those cars. I occasionally made out in one of them. The mats my dad got for the first station wagon fit the second one and as a teenager, the combination of comfort and space behind the rear bench seat meant serious snogging. I saw Conan the Barbarian (also featured making out) from the back of that car.
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Main reason for posting these vintage cars is the memories I have of their durability, their non-durability, their quirks and all the miles shared with friends and family.
Daily affirmation: Stop treating the computer like a friend. It’s just a tool.
In New Orleans, the manhole covers have “N.O.P.S.I.” on them. This 2011 shot was one of the first ones I took on the street. I noticed these during my 2009 trip (click here to see the image) and wanted to get just the N and the O. Don’t know why it took over a year to process this one. Actually, I do know. It’s been a shitty year. I don’t say that to be a downer. Just being honest.
I’m almost a year out from my gall bladder removal and the 2011 trip to New Orleans was marked by severe chest pain and a lot of chewable antacids and anti-gas tablets. But I did manage to get some great shots. I wished I’d spent more time during the magic hours. So here’s to losing the shoulda coulda woulda: I will spend more time shooting during magic hour times in the future. And those images will kick ass.
Daily affirmation: There’s always a magic hour or two in a day.
Taken last year in New Orleans’ Garden District. Love the “R” on this signage. Tasty. Sad that I didn’t go in an buy something. Like maybe a salted caramel cupcake?