His Chrysler. Not sure of the year, but probably a 1930 or 1931. The film fell victim to light fogging, unfortunately, thus no front. Taken by my mother on their honeymoon, October 1932.
She was prone to making occasional remarks about him going out and buying a new car "as soon as he got some money in his pocket." But in truth, over the course of a driving career of nearly six decades, my father bought just five; after this Chrysler was a Plymouth around 1934, a Hudson in 1948 and Ramblers in 1956 and 1966. Not the kind of frequency that would have the automobile industry doing cartwheels, I suspect.
No doubt about it, though, the driver's seat was Father's exclusive domain. After an ill-fated attempt early on to teach Mother how to drive, the matter was laid to rest. None of us three kids learned how until adulthood, and then via driving schools.
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