Vintage autos and their owners from times gone by

Archive for January, 2013

An Ambassador (the car not the woman).

It isn’t very often I come across a photo like this — perfect in so many ways. The car is a ’49 or ’50 Nash Ambassador. I’m thinking the lady in the window sent the guy with the camera in to buy her a bottle of Thunderbird and some Salems. “Smile” he said to her. “I am!” she answered.


“Outbuildings are full, where do I park my prized 1957 Chevy?”

If you’re in to classics there is no way you wouldn’t be familiar with the infamous 1957 Chevy. This guy here either just bought himself one or he is giving the idea of buying this very one some very serious thought. I’m going to go out on a limb here and call this vehicle model as closely as I can. 1957 Chevrolet 210 Series…. with a 6-cylinder engine. How do I know it’s a 6? There is no ‘V” on the front of the hood. That “V” badge you sometimes see stood for V-8.


1939 Buick mischief.


I bought this photo mostly because of the unusual situation taking place. I’m looking at it and I still can’t figure it out exactly. Who would drive across their lawn just inches behind their child? Oh, sure, it’s all fun and games until somebody’s foot slips off the clutch. I guess people really trusted their ’39 Buicks back in the day.


1925 Buick in the great north.

This photo was a gift from our good neighbor Karen. She said she found it in a trunk of old things in a relative’s attic. Nice find!  On the car, my first guess was a Buick and although it took me a while to find out for sure, it is indeed a Buick. A 1925 model as near as I can prove. Can anyone out there dial it in closer than simply a “1925 Buick?”  Leave a comment.


“Daddy, let’s go knock off a bank.”

Yes, that’s a hat on the hood ornament, and yes those are pistols in each of their hands (toys, I hope). Young Bonnie with Clyde Sr. perhaps? On the auto, my guess centers around a 1941 Plymouth. Looks like “Clyde Sr.” might have blown the new lawn mower fund on all those aftermarket, add-on headlights — just a guess.