This morning my father mentioned a 1957 Chevy. He was talking about what an interesting car it was, and how it was such a landmark in American automotive history, and for at least an hour, I didn’t really understand what he was referring to, because I was confused between the object and the context: it wasn’t the car itself, the sheetmetal, the engine and the frame and all the componentry — it was the era in which the 1957 Chevy was built that he was so nostalgic for. The entire era of the 1950s, from about 1953 until 1966 or 1967, defines my father’s formative years. And despite all the things that happened during that time, all of the things that today we would hyperventilate about, he still believes that they were the model for how America should live, as though those years could be frozen in time and replicated forever. The high water mark of our culture.
Later I was wandering around on the Internet and came across this: The Old Car Manual Project. And looking at the photographs of the ’50s and early ’60s Buicks there, reading the advertisements, just took me into a completely different world, so far removed from the one we live in today that I almost can’t believe they were composed in the same country, or even the same world.
The pictures of the Buicks from the 1950s just beam with optimism and security. They’re the polar opposite of self-doubt, worry, and indecision. Those cars and the people who bought them must have felt that they were living on top of the world, and selecting from the best of the top of the world when they bought something to put in their driveway. The families were model families, and the concerns weren’t even concerning — they were just minor differences of opinion. People could be excited even when they were relaxing.
I mean, just listen to this:
It’s something you can’t miss.
Even as you see it standing at the curb, you can sense the pulse-quickening action this rakish Buick promises.
But nothing seen or heard can fully prepare you for the thrill you feel when you press the pedal of this automobile.
For here a new kind of excitement wells up in you — from a new kind of action that was never in any Earth-bound vehicle before.
For Pete’s sake the ad. must have appealed to people who believed they were living in Valhalla. Other ads are less hyperbolic, but all of them have the same undertone of absolute, boundless optimism. By contrast, I half expect GM and Chrysler’s next generation of ads to advertise their new cars as homeless shelters.
It’s a very different world now, and I couldn’t help but think while gazing at all those car advertisements from the ’50s and early ’60s whether America will ever be so grand, so elegant and self-assured, so polished and intelligent and so intrinsically confident? It seems almost impossible to imagine now…
[More to come in this thread...updates in the next hour]
The first thing that really struck me about some of the ads. was how much text there was in them. You don’t see five or six paragraphs used to sell American cars now. Occasionally in more expensive magazines, luxury foreign carmakers print ads with more than 250 words. These ads resemble today’s ads for computer products more than anything else.
Moe Lane
Steve Maley
Dan McLaughlin
Neil Stevens
Daniel Horowitz
You'd love Bruce McCall's "Bulgemobiles" in the old National Lampoon
Steve Maley (Diary) Saturday, January 10th at 6:13PM EST (link)Pictured above is a ’58 Bulgemobile from the April ’72 “25th Anniversary” Issue. It featured a “Tap-a-Toe Tapamatic Transmission” (IIRC) and the upholstery was variously described as being made from a “fabric-like material” and a “material-like fabric”.
Funny, funny stuff.
The blogger formerly known as ‘Vladimir’.
Great blog Alex
GordonTaylor (Diary) Saturday, January 10th at 6:16PM EST (link)My first car was a ’57 Chevy, refitted with a 327, fuel injected, 4 on the floor from a wrecked ’65 Impala SS.
We added a 3/4 cam, solid lifters and 2, count ‘em, 2 Holley 1,100 CFG 4 barrels with positive linkage. That’s all 8 barrels dumping in fuel at all time. Who cared? $3.50 worth of Sunoco 290 octane filled the tank!
After modifying the suspension with track masters, it would do about 150 in the quarter mile, yet I dove it on the road! It had 3″ exhaust, and I welded a pipe with a cap at the point where the exhaust made the bend to the rear, just screw off the caps and no muffler back pressure! That added about 25 horses, but I got a few “Loud muffler tickets!”
One time, I was parked outside a dance and I saw the beat cop coming so I shut it off, I had the dumps open (of course, it was Friday night). He strolled up to the car and said, “Son, turn it on.” I obeyed, and he said, “Hit it”. I barely touched the gas. He said, “Come on, hit it!” I did, and as the flames shot out from the undercarraige, he took out his ticket book and wrote me another.
We didn’t have dynomometers handy in those days, but my shop teacher figured I was pushing about 475 -500 horses. Mad, it would fly for a small block!
Make that
GordonTaylor (Diary) Saturday, January 10th at 6:17PM EST (link)1.100 CFM carbs, darn keyboard!
Nobody would put up with one as a daily driver
Achance (Diary) Saturday, January 10th at 6:43PM EST (link)these days, especially the 210 or Biscayne trim level of the Chevy. Buicks were nicer, but not much. Interior was a lot of painted metal and some nondescript vinyl. Power windows and door locks were for Cadillacs. Power steering, power brakes, and automatic transmissions were extra cost and not too common options. There aren’t even a lot of people today who can shift a four or five speed on the floor; I may be the only person I know who can shift a three on the tree.
3K miles was it for oil. 6K, 10K max for a full timing, dwell, plugs, points, condesor, adjust the idle, fix the oil leaks tune up. There never was a small block Chevy made that didn’t leak oil from the rear mainseal, timing chain cover, and both valve covers until maybe the late eightes or the nineties. Bias ply tires might last 10K or 15K miles. Drum brakes had to be adjusted fairly frequently. Nobody, but nobody would put up with that kind of maintenance and only the rich could even afford it today.
But I had one and I loved it; 57 BelAir 2-Door Hardtop, the archtype. It wasn’t real straight and the paint was a long way from perfect. The interior was worn stock. But mechanically it was a dragster with lights and mufflers (sometimes). Mine had the hot rodders’ 301, a 327 block with a 283 crank. With Duntov or fuelie heads and cam, mine had the Duntov or Powerpack heads and an Isky roller cam, a well built one would make horsepower past 8000 rpm with two Holley 750s and headers. And you could buy pump gas that gave you enough octane for the 12.5:1 compression ratio. If you understand all that, you’re either a car nut or you’re showing your age. And in those days, if you had anything like a job, a young guy, even in high school could have a pretty tricky car like that. Wish I had mine back. Sitting just like it was the day I sold it, since it had matching numbers, it would probably fetch $40 – $50K instead of the $2K I sold it for in ’70, and $2K was a REAL good price for me then.
In Vino Veritas
I guess I am guilty
GordonTaylor (Diary) Sunday, January 11th at 12:18AM EST (link)on both accounts, car nut AND old. But, damn, I loved my too. And, you’re right, I always had a wrench in my hand, but back then it was cool.
Blue jeans, tee-shirt, pack of Lucky’s and you were set to go.