Spring, 1953. I'm 18 years old and living alone in New York City. There is no way I need a car — more a curse than a blessing in crowded Manhattan. Still, I want one. On weekends I frequently went home to Pennsylvania via the Lehigh Valley Railroad, otherwise known as the "Leaky Valve." A car would make this much easier, and I wouldn't have to borrow my dad's car to get out to the cabin. Clicky Here to Visit Said Cabin.
Counting my pennies, I managed to scrounge up enough for a modest used vehicle. Most of this was a gift from my generous Uncle Otto, who operated a funeral parlor in the Bronx.
Strolling up Broadway, I ran across a dealer in used imports at 56th Street. The only cars in my price range were in the basement, where I had to decide between a sensible Austin that actually ran, or an exciting Alfa Romeo in rather poor condition. Practicality won, I handed them $400, and drove off to Pennsylvania.
To save on insurance and taxes, I registered my new toy at my parents' address in Allentown, and then found out that some minor corrections had to be made to satisfy that state's safety regulations. Like real headlights. This was done by an Austin dealer in Allentown.
About the car: It was a small 1949 4-door sedan with a sunroof (hooray!), leather seats, a stick shift, and two nifty little illuminated hands that popped up on either side to indicate turns. The anemic engine had 4 cylinders and a manual choke, but did very well on gas mileage. Something that could not be said for its oil mileage. I soon learned to always carry a gallon can of motor oil for use whenever the warning light came on. Which was often.
Parking in Manhattan circa 1953 was not the horror show that it is today. I rented space in an outdoor lot at 46th Street and First Avenue, right next to the United Nations. Although a distance from my tiny apartment, it was close to Avedon's studio, where I worked.
The car served me well right up until its final demise. I had already finished my army training and in early July 1957 was ready to head off for duty in Tokyo, Japan. I planned to drive down from Fort Devens, near Boston, to Allentown for a last visit before flying off. And leave the car in the hands of my younger brother Richard. Somewhere around Springfield, Massachusetts it ran out of oil, I was going too fast, and the engine exploded. Literally. A friendly State Trooper called for a tow truck, who offered me $25 in scrap value. I took it, and called my father, who came to get me. My poor brother would have to remain carless until he could afford an old Studebaker.
That is the sad end of the Austin.
Interested in photography? Check out my "Assisting Avedon" blog.
SO, just what Little Adventure am I up to now in 2013? Why, just the most challenging one of them all! CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT.
Great blog Uncle.
Posted by: Nick | August 13, 2006 at 07:40 PM