My treasured 1941 Chevy Super Deluxe. Same vintage as me. The first and last time I’ve ever had my very own car. Yeah, the photo’s staged, but it reflects my feelings at having to sell him before heading for Cambridge in 1958.
Purchased in 1957 with $100 of my earnings from Saturday and after-school labor at Cliff’s drug store (more formally, Nielsen’s Pharmacy, at Highland and E). Right after I turned 16 and got my California driver’s license. Marvelous old work-horse of a vehicle. Probably still running, somewhere. George Jones taught me to change the oil and tune him (Hesperus) up. He (Hesperus) didn’t ask much more in the way of upkeep.

After buying Hesperus from Grandpa Anderson in Ogden, I had to drive him (Hesperus, not Grandpa) across the desert to Berdoo, caravaning with the rest of the family in (I think) Marilyn, Pappy’s beautiful blonde Pontiac. We got as far as Beaver before the super-modern vacuum assist on the (steering-column-mounted) gearshift mechanism sprang a leak, leaving me with only high (third) gear for the rest of the trip. Good thing we were taking the two-lane Bloody Baker Grade in the (downhill) westward direction: probably still be there, otherwise. Or at least represented by a white cross marker by the roadside…
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