Of only 12,000 models of this 1942 Plymouth provided it's a DeLuxe 4-door sedan, nearly 69,000 if it's the slightly higher priced Special DeLuxe in that war-shortened year. Of course it's impossible to tell which body style it is from this shot, but all other types were made in far fewer quantities than the sedans. Plymouths, along with Fords and Chevrolets, would have continued to be made in very limited and special-order capacities for government use.

Putting a 1946 Ford into a photo taken in 1943 is a pretty neat trick

[It's a 1942 Plymouth. -tterrace]

The stories in the photograph are many.

Little Johnny, the child on the far left almost out of the picture, is the abandoned sibling of a long-haul one-eyed trucker. Johnny is cupping a cigarette as he drags on it. He's trying to quit, but it's hard.

Sally, the thick-ankled beauty from Seneca Gardens, Kentucky, is on her way to Paris to study macrame, an inspiration she gained while watching "The Petrified Forest" at a Bette Davis film festival last year in Louisville. Unfortunately, she bought a ticket for Paris, Kentucky since it's all she could afford.

Bobby likes to stand under the lamp and play with strings. He wants to sing the blues in Memphis, and he's trying to pal up with Joe and Chuck, who seem like nice fellows from Stinking Creek, Tennessee, who might loan him bus fare to Memphis.

Joe and Chuck are on the run from bad marriages to each other's sisters in Aurora, Indiana. They have little money and are hoping to get Bobby's mother to make them sandwiches before their bus arrives. It's a pathetic con, their implied promise of a loan for bus fare to Bobby for some sandwiches, but it's all they've got.

The last three gents are keeping an eye on Bobby as a favor to his beautiful sister Veronica, who is in Lexington trying to beat a horse-racing larceny rap. She promised them someday to return to the bus station.

The car is the only innocent thing in the picture, but it's begun to be a little unreliable.

1943 was a tough year.

I must say I feel so sorry for the woman. I wonder what's wrong with her ankles? She seems an otherwise tiny person with very delicate bone structure but her ankles are hugely swollen.

These song lyrics will basically sum up this attractive, apparently single woman's wartime problem.

They're either too young, or too old
They're either too gray or too grassy green
The pickings are poor and the crop is lean
What's good is in the army
What's left will never harm me

Their wearer doesn't seem to be very happy at this particular rest stop.