Humans can certainly be cruel – how else could you explain the enjoyment so many of us derive from junkyard pictures? As sad as the subject matter always is, there’s a certain beauty in a long-dormant automobile that is patiently awaiting the next phase in its life cycle, and that doesn’t even take those pangs of nostalgia into account. There are always a variety of wonderful pictures in our CC Cohort, and Ralf K stops by from time to time to drop off some well-composed photographs for us all to ponder. In one of his recent batches, I found that I had some kind of connection to every car he posted: some in a peripheral way, some a little closer to home, starting with this beautifully decayed early ’50s Cadillac.
I’m no stranger to early ’50s General Motors offerings, as one of my prized possessions is a 1953 Buick Special Riviera, but in terms of Cadillacs, nothing comes close to a 1955 Coupe DeVille. Almost a decade ago, I had a “lightning bolt” moment with this ’55 that sent me immediately to my desktop to work out the puppy love I’d developed for a car I saw from across a rainy street. I later saw it for sale three times, once locally on craigslist, once on eBay two hours away, and again at an antique car broker a little farther away than that. All three times the asking price was in the $15,000-$20,000 range, which I thought was a little high for its condition. I still ponder what might have been.
Another of Ralf’s finds was this Willys-Knight, so named for its Knight sleeve-valve engine. This arm of Willys-Overland had a fairly long run of almost 20 years, being sold from 1914 to 1933, with production starting out in Elyria, Ohio, before being moved to Willys’ home base of Toledo. Years ago, my mom found a picture of my young paternal grandmother sitting on the running board of a 1920s sedan, and she asked me to figure out what kind of car it was. Anyone who’s tried to identify a 1920s car understands how difficult that can be with nothing but a profile shot to go by, but the cowl shape and the distinctive cowl-mounted light rewarded my hours of searching: It was a 1927 (or so) Willys-Knight, which made geographic sense, because that side of the family was based in Toledo at the time.
It’s not too common to see a Willys-Knight these days, but a few of them almost always pop up at the Greenfield Village Old Car Festival in September, and I captured this 1930 Model 70B in 2024. The 70B was also called the “Light Six”; it was available in 1929 and 1930 and at $1,075, it was priced lower than just about any Willys-Knight built to that point. Moving the car downmarket clearly didn’t help the final result, but the cars still looked good anyway.
The example in Ralf’s picture might be a little closer in age to the car my grandma was parked on so many years ago; what I can see seems to match models in the 1926-27 range.
This 1937 Pontiac has clearly seen its last mile, having suffered from some ignominious glass breakage, headlight theft, and general gross neglect.
But Pontiacs of the 1930s haven’t all been so unlucky. My 2024 trip to the Pontiac Historical Museum in Pontiac, Michigan, left me with a new vehicular friend, this 1938 Pontiac four-door sedan. I think BOP cars of the 1930s, Pontiacs and Oldsmobiles especially, are underrepresented in car culture. Everyday sedans of the 1930s, ’40s, and ’50s have suffered in value and esteem over the last several years, and that may open up plenty of hoarding opportunities for those who want something a little different from the usual car meet fare. I couldn’t get enough of this one.
Then there’s the classic Pinto station wagon, and this one appears to be from the 1974-76 era. As you can see, it’s been turned into a truck, and although a Pinto Ranchero might have been an interesting spin on the early 1960s Falcon Ranchero, it was more likely the answer to the question nobody was asking. My mom drove a brown 1974 Pinto when I was growing up, and by the time I was cognizant of my surroundings (maybe 1979 or ’80), it was already succumbing to rust. That didn’t, however, stop me from pestering my parents to go “Pinto Hunting” every chance I could. There were still a lot of Pintos around in the early 1980s, and I’m sure my exhausted parents didn’t mind at all taking me on walks and rides on a search for throwaway economy compacts.
If I were going to add a Pinto to my already-too-large fleet, I think it would be a wagon from my 1980 Pinto brochure. I like the Pinto with the “Rallye Pack”; the stripes remind me of a 1976 Firebird Formula’s. What was going on at Ford in 1980? They copied the Trans Am’s hood chicken for their “Cobra,” and then this?
On an unrelated note, the photography in Ford’s brochures for the 1980 models was stunning; the photographers used cool filters to create a pseudo-nighttime setting, and Ford’s color palette was actually very nice: Bright Bittersweet, Bright Yellow, and Bright Red, in addition to their myriad “Glow” hues added up to something totally unlike what you’ll find in the “brochures” of today. RIP variety.
I have, however, saved the best for last: the 1966 Oldsmobile Toronado, one of my absolute favorite cars. It’s a crime that this “Dubonnet” example has been left to rot, almost as much of a crime as the fact that I don’t own one – yet. I made an offer on a ’66 this summer before I bought my Volvo 1800S, but it was at a dealer and they didn’t accept it. Too bad for me, but at least the Volvo is about a half a car smaller than the big Oldsmobile. Chances are very good that if I get another car (ha!), it will be a ’66 Toronado.
In the meantime, I comfort myself by visiting the R.E. Olds Museum in Lansing, where this gold Toronado is on display; I’ve been ogling it for years. Rarely is a group of pictures so evocative, but Ralf’s lens has really found my center this time. The memories they jogged weren’t always exactly the same as what he captured, but sometimes you have to let your imagination have its rein, and we are not at all cruel for letting that happen.
I loved the theme in this post of juxtaposing Ralf’s subject cars with nice examples of each – great post! Identifying older, prewar cars is very tricky – I get this.
I especially have a soft spot for the El Ca-Pinto and the ’67 Toro.
I wasn’t aware that each of the GM divisions have their own museum. I thought GM Heritage Center would have been the central location for all the divisions. This picture that I posted is a car that I saw at the Pontiac Service Garage, back in the 90s before there was any museums at all. It’s the guy that developed the overhead cam 6 cylinder motor. He made a pair of over head cam cylinder heads for his 421 Tri-Power Gran Prix for himself and I assume that car is there at Pontiac’s museum?
They don’t, the Pontiac and Oldsmobile museums are private concerns. Buick “sort of” has a museum in Flint, the Sloan Museum, but in reality, the only consolidated collection GM owns is the “Heritage Collection” in Sterling Heights, MI, and it’s generally only open to large groups who make an appointment.
The guy in your picture is Mac McKellar, who was a Pontiac engineer responsible for a lot of the performance engines from the muscle car period (especially the camshafts). That car is not at the museum as far as I know.
One of the most disturbing ads I have seen was the Mercedes ad, where the car goes into the crusher, and it’s life flashes before it, before it dies.
Jeez, that’s a heartbreaker.
The Pinto Ranchero looks really well done with nice touches like the bed rails. The wall and rear window are much better done than the plywood wall I installed on my cut down 67 VW Type 3 fastback/pickup.
I noticed that too. It would have made a cute production version; the Ranchette.
I am right there with you. Nevermind my complete lack of skills, time and excess cash, every derelict car I see has brochure quality pictures dancing through my head and comically adolescent ideas about fixing it up and getting it back on the road.
And I still harbor a desire (though one that weakens by the year) for a nice, presentable sedan from the 30s or 40s.
Nevermind my complete lack of skills, time and excess cash, every derelict car I see has brochure quality pictures dancing through my head and comically adolescent ideas about fixing it up and getting it back on the road.
Ayup. This Renault 18 showed up on FB marketplace yesterday. I would love to see it rescued, but I lack the means. So, I have been playing the provocateur, posting the listing in a couple different groups, in the hope that someone that does have the means, will see it.
That seems like a perfect CC car to me…maybe a reader can pick it up and tell us about it!
That seems like a perfect CC car to me…maybe a reader can pick it up and tell us about it!
It’s in Lapeer. About 90 miles from me. A friend lives about 10 minutes from it, but he is in the Citroen cult. Ben knows a French specialist shop, in the ‘burbs of Montreal. He’s even offered to haul the 18 to Andre’s shop, when he heads there this fall.
The car is in insane condition for it’s age.
It’s not running. But get it sorted mechanically and electrically, and call it good.
Someone could compensate for no skills or storage space with lots and lots of money, but I’m not that guy.
That’s a great commercial from Mercedes, it could bring a tear to any old car lover’s eye. It really portrays the “seasons” of a car’s life as it interacts with the original and subsequent owners. Life is played out with, and alongside the car. Pictures of cars in this state always tug at my heart strings. I remember when I was a freshman back in high school and the bus would pass by a similar early 50’s Cadillac parked in an old orchard. Surely I could get that thing running again! But it was left there for a reason, whatever was wrong with it would probably not be easily fixed with a young teenager’s enthusiasm. But it could be fixed, if someone really wanted to invest the labor and money it needed.
Rescuing abandoned derelict cars can still be done, though nowadays it is usually not economically feasible. Earlier cars from before the 1950’s are usually the best bet. Anything can be rebuilt, reconstructed, re-engineered and refinished, but the cost will exceed that of another example that’s already in good condition. In the same way any existing car can be used, repaired, and preserved almost indefinitely, but it takes a high degree of commitment and desire. Not to mention the necessary investment of money along the way. Cars from the late 30’s to the early 1950’s are often quite simple, especially the lower priced marques, with flathead engines, manual transmissions and few if any, power accessories. There are a lot fewer things to go wrong with these cars.
I have a love-hate relationship with Pintos, and I have a love-hate relationship with Rancheros (although I do love the early Falcon-based model), but I would totally go to couples therapy with that Pinchero, just to learn how to love it.
Ah ha, so now know what two cars it will take to get to #12. Seeing a Pinto out my way is highly unlikely but a Toronado maybe. I’ll keep close to my vest what I am looking at but suffice it to say it will not likely be found in the Midwest in a condition I would want.
Nice pictures all .
I’d never seen that Mercedes advert before, yes it’s very sad .
-Nate
It’s encouraging to know that there are still yards around the U.S. where cars (or the remains of) of the above vintages still reside. Perhaps repair or restoration is still in their future.
In my native Connecticut, a relatively prosperous state, the oldest, decomposing shells of cars you’ll find are from the late 1980s or early 1990s.