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Why are 1950-60’s Chrome Postcards Memorable to MJR?

Why are 1950-60’s Chrome Postcards Memorable to MJR?
Caution, as you Read On!!

 
Hello Collectors,

 
Well, for the memories, of course! Especially Chrome Postcards of Cars! Notably those 1950-60’s muscle cars, or perhaps, one particular 1951 Hillman or a specific 1963 Pontiac Parisienne Convertible.
 
THE QUESTION?
WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN YOUR 1960’s AUTOMOBILE???
 
DON’T GET THE WRONG IDEA! You were most likely driving your Mom to the grocery store — for, of course, groceries!
 
Let’s begin with a 1963 Pontiac Parisienne Convertible  

                        

(white exterior, blue interior). 
As a teenager, I was the “preferred designated driver.” 
 
(Now, a few of my buddies, in fact quite a few, had an appreciation for a tasty beverage that turned faces a pale white with a greenish tinge!)
 
Usually, when driving, this particular 1963 Pontiac, a smelly, fishy odour emanated from the back seat. A glance over my right shoulder and, yep, my pals were “puking out” their spicy pepperoni breakfast pizza from both sides of the car windows. After that experience, I never, ever, sat in the back seat of a 1963 Pontiac Parisienne, again!
 
 I also have recollections of a certain 1951 Hillman!  

                         
 
My thoughtful father bought this “beater” for my mother. It had four (4) gears forward and, when attempting reverse, a “meat grinding squeal.”  As predicable, this little “germ,” I mean “gem,” wouldn’t start to bring it home. 🤷🏻‍♂️
 
Well the “old man” (as he preferred to be called) said,
 
“What the hell!  I’ll push it with my 1955 Plymouth (“three in the tree — if you know what I mean.”
 
Bang! The front bumper, on ass end of 1951 Hillman.
Bang, again! Then the “big one”!
BOOM!  It was like, “BIG JOHN,” with a crashing blow from his huge right hand, sending this Hillman to the promise land.
 
What happened next? My screaming, out of control, mom grasped what she thought was the steering wheel, but actually wasn’t the steering wheel, but me!  — Well, me, before MJR was founded.
 
When the back-left-tire started to lift & became mini air born, the “old man” put on the brakes!
 
And, do you think we lived happily ever after? Or.., as Roy and Dale would sing:
 
Happy Trails to You,
Until we Meet again"
Nope, “that Divorce” was Faster than a Speeding Bullet!
 
Let’s finish with the 1936 Plymouth Four (4) Door Coupe. The “old man” bought this relic in the early 1950’s (and sold it later to my uncle).

                         

Years later, (ready for the dump) this “beauty” found itself in my “adventurous” cousin’s possession!  If you can imagine, planning your final resting place in a “junkyard,” and then arriving in my cousin’s backyard — there was cause for a CAR back to life”CELEBRATION!
 
What a party, this “straight-up-six-cylinder” vehicle was given by my cousins and their friends. NOTE:  True story by the way:
 
  1. Take this junker across the road to the adjacent farmer’s field and drive the “living shit” out of it! They did - each one having a turn at the wheel
 
My cousin was a “stock car driver” and this was no ordinary “shit” drive. Floored to the max, with every attempt made, to flip the 1936 Plymouth, failed. With blue gagging smoke discharging from the tail pipe, an upper management decision was made.
 
  1. Bang it into reverse and try the stunt all over again!  Let’s say they were flipping mad when it didn’t flip.
 
  1. Next, let’s jump up and down on the roof and give it a custom look — and they did that, as well!  An auto-body shop fix-it-upper!
 
  1. Well, a baseball bat was close by, so every window was bashed out, including head and tail lights. The old Plymouth was still running! That straight-six-engine was burning oil; steam was bursting from the radiator and it now possessed four flat tires.
                               
What Next?
 
My cousin’s buddy came up with a brilliant idea that seemed okay, for that moment.
 
  1. Let’s get some rags; tie them together; saturate them with gasoline; lay them in a straight line; twist one end and plug it deep into the “gas-filler-neck” (gas cap removed). AND, NEXT!
 
  1. Stand way back, and I mean way back! The master mind, of this “Celebration of Plymouth Car Life”, then lit a match and threw it at the other end of the rag. 
 
  1. A fiery stream began tracking up to the gas pipe’s entry spout.😳😮😳
 
Can You guess the outcome! What happened next?
(If you’ve had “gas”, like Mick Jagger, of the Rolling Stones.)
 
THEN:
 
🎶 But it's all right 🎶
I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash
🎶 It's a gas! Gas! Gas! 🎶
💥
Take care,
John Bucci

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