Earlier this year I lucked out and got a free wall calendar when my car had some maintenance done. Flipping the page to the new month, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a photo of a 1954 Kaiser Manhattan sedan. Who’d-a-thunk-it. My mother had once owned the 1952 model, so my nostalgic brain synapses began firing.
How quickly one is transported back in time simply by viewing a vehicle of yore. I could feel the ribbed upholstery of the Kaiser’s bench seat on my bare legs, as in my mind’s eye I craned my skinny kid neck to see over the dashboard and out the windshield with its unique widow’s peak shape. It was summer, and with Mom at the wheel and little sister in the back seat we were going downtown to shop. I was hoping for a stop at the P.A. Home Bakery before the day was out (mmm… cream puffs!)
I’ll venture a guess that if you’re reading this you have your own fond memories of certain automobiles, as well as a few not-so-good recollections.
They may or may not involve family road trips, drive-in movies, getting stranded, being rescued, parallel parking, collisions, near misses, tailgate picnics, horn-honking wedding processions, or burning rubber (what does S.T.O.P. stand for? Squeal Tires On Pavement). All accompanied by tunes on the car radio, CD player, cassette deck, or 8 track. Pick one or more.
The impact of the automobile on our everyday lives is immeasurable, particularly in Saskatchewan, a place of relative space and lots of roads where we spend countless hours in our cars, trucks, and SUVs out of necessity.
If you’re used to having wheels to run around with, it’s eye opening when you suddenly can’t. One winter, during pandemic times and supply chain issues, my car needed repairing. For six long weeks, while waiting for the proverbial back ordered part, I could drive myself nowhere. Unless you count crazy. Plus, people were in their “bubbles” and not super happy to share space in their vehicles with just anybody who might touch door handles, etc.
Riding the city bus worked in a pinch, but taking the inevitable scenic route from my home at point A to my destination at point B or C required pre-planning, the correct change, and way more time than you might expect. On evenings or weekends there might not even be a bus to catch. Of course there were cabs, but… pandemic germs. Not to mention cost. Weather and sidewalk conditions permitting, I managed to get around thanks to my own bubble people (when available) and two legs that so far didn’t need replacement parts. Suffice it to say the whole experience changed my perception of just how car dependent we really are. Which is – very.
So I’m super appreciative now that I can get around as and when I please, barring unforeseen mechanical troubles or – ack! — another late spring storm. I mean really, how lucky are we to have vehicles that work? Especially with the newer automobiles. They’re doubtless safer, more comfortable, and easier on gas – if they use it at all – than their predecessors.
Yet for all the modern gadgetry of heated seats, backup cameras, remote starts, and electronic dashboard screens, nothing matches the feel of getting behind the wheel of a vintage stick shift vehicle complete with clutch, elbow grease window operation, lock-your-own-darn doors, and (gasp!) an ashtray for back seat passengers, then motoring off into the sunset. It’s nearly as much fun as a Kaiser trip downtown featuring cream puffs.
Lorna Blakeney is an avid writer who enjoys photography, history, travel, and genealogy. She was born and raised in Prince Albert, earned a B.A. from the University of Saskatchewan, likes to walk, and loves coffee shops. Her column appears the first Friday of every month.
