Man, I love old cars.
Especially ones that have character and speak from experience. Here’s a couple of snappies of an old Pontiac that parks just around the corner from where we live.
I don’t know how Chief Pontiac would feel about having his cartoony bust mounted as the figurehead upon a symbol of Detroit steel, but there he is in chromy glory, in the best hybrid form I can conceive of that combines cranium and aircraft.
In an unsuccessful attempt to see a fringe play this afternoon (five minutes past no latecomers), we came across this Nash Metropolitan, redone in pinky purple.
I don’t know what was cuter – the car or the Scottie napping in the front seat.
They don’t make’em like they used to. and in a few years, they won’t make’em like they do now either.