I hear it’s been a bit, umm, cozy in some parts of the country. We finally had our first 80 degree day on Friday. And the nights are in the mid-fifties, Meaning, no need for air conditioning in our houses. But our (modern) cars all have them, although I hardly ever turn it on in my white Xb with its very vertical windows, except for a longer freeway trip on a really warm day.
But I remember well how miserable it was riding in Iowa in a certain hot black car with plastic seat covers. And it was even muggier in Baltimore, in our non-a/c ’65 Coronet wagon.
But the question is (obviously not geared to the youngest readers) when did you first ride in an air conditioned car? Me? A 1961 Fleetwood Sixty Special that my father’s cousin came in to visit us in Iowa City (in 1963, I believe). He had just bought it used, and as a traveling salesman (the big trunk stuffed full of high-quality German cameras and opticals), he loved it indeed. And he took us out for a treat at the Purple Cow Drive-In. And it was profoundly memorable indeed. What a revelation; one that my parents would not indulge in until 1973.