Margaret and I and two of her children visited New York City in May. We stayed at a hotel on 57th St., just south of Central Park, our home base as we did all the touristy stuff, including walking through the park, taking a cruise down the Hudson River, and going to the site of the World Trade Center. That last one, frankly, in retrospect, I could have lived without. Anyway, in all of Manhattan this was the only curbside classic I encountered, on 56th St. right behind our hotel. I peg this arrest-me red Corvette to about 1979.
We didn’t linger long; we had things to see. But I did get off a couple shots – and noticed that this otherwise cherry car had characteristic parking scrapes on the bumper. I’ve zoomed in on them in the shot below.
Twenty five years ago I drove out east to visit a friend in Hoboken. She explained to me how to park. “If you’re lucky to find a spot on the street, if you can fit in it at all, it will be just barely. You back in until you hit the car behind you, and then move forward until you hit the car in front of you, and repeat until you’re parked. We all have scrapes on our bumpers from it.”
Clearly, this car has seen that kind of parking, too.