When you’re a celebrity, having any kind of normal private life can be difficult, if not impossible. So it would stand to reason, when you’re a celebrity look-alike you’d have to relinquish some of that same privacy just as the real stars do. It goes with the territory — makes total sense. And, try as you may to live that elusive, anonymous life (as you climb from your 1968 Dodge Polara after a trip to the ugly shirt store) – BAM!! — the paparazzi spot you again! You’ve seen it dozens of times in the past, so you simply strike your best “star pose” and correct them for the millionth time: “I’m not Benny Hill.”
I’m not at all sure what these folks are doing here. They’re not washing this car because the ground’s not wet. And they’re not drying it because the car’s not wet. Nobody’s got any Turtle Wax. It’s all very odd. So I’ll try to piece this scene together simply from what I see.
The man positioned at the very front of the car can’t get his Timex ticking. The farmer with his arm stuck under the fender is trying to milk the “steel cow.” Try as she may, the lady rubbing the rear fender can’t get the genie to come out. And the woman behind the wheel wants directions to anywhere outside the Twilight Zone.
The people are all zombies. The car is a 1948 Chevrolet.
Back when cars were far more of an emotional purchase than a rational one, styling was king. Power helped in the buying decision as did trunk room and seating for six, perhaps, but if your car didn’t turn some heads or make its owner feel on top of the world just sitting in it while parked, then it probably wasn’t your best choice in an automobile.
This, ladies and gentleman, was one of the finest car makes in the day. Packard. 1949 Super 8 Victoria Convertible. Priced around $2,500 — quite a lot back then. But if you consider that by simply climbing inside and taking hold of its enormous steering wheel, you could be the king for a day, ruler of the universe, supremo, megastar, the “Dude.” And all of a sudden, that $2,500 price tag becomes nothing.
Props to Kerry Brown for his permission to use this great photograph of his dad.
With this, I have posted 192 old car photos on this blog and can count on only one hand the number of pictures where I knew someone featured within.
Although I don’t know the man pictured here, I do know his son — and I’d like to thank him for allowing me to share, with you, this wonderful photo of his mentor, his buddy, his hero… his dad.
The car is a 1941 Ford Tudor Sedan