A couple of years ago, we showed a handful of pictures of this former Route 66 gas station in Hackberry, AZ that Curtis Perry posted at the Cohort. So it looked mighty familiar as we rolled by it on our recent trip. But I saw a bunch of other cars in the back lot, so I pulled a U turn and got out to document them all for you.
This semi-matched pair of ’55 DeSoto and Chrysler are some of the front line main attractions. So let’s start with them.
The desert sun has created a mighty fine case of patinoma on the DeSoto. Terminal, I’m afraid.
A doctor who lived two doors down from us in Iowa City had one of these, and I used to obsess on that Firedome emblem. And I knew what it stood for too (the hemi head).
It’s interior is showing the ravages of time, and mice.
The Chrysler has managed to hang on to a lot more of its paint.
But its interior is even worse.
Reminds me of the old cars that were put out to pasture on the Mennonite farm I used to visit in the summers. I’d brush the loose stuff away and pretend to drive.
Here’s the other star attraction, a ’59 Mercury wagon. This comes from a time when all their wagons were hardtops.
Not wild about the wheels, but otherwise this is the bomb.
JPC pointed out last time the parallel action wipers.
Love that giant windshield. I did a full CC on the ’59 Mercury recently here.
The dash is wild too.
In a shed there was a lovely young women who shared her extensive knowledge of the Ford flathead V8 with me.
Are mannequins just naturally attracted to flatheads?
I walked out to the back lot, where there were some cars stuck in the sand. That’s a fine ’67 Ford Custom 500 Tudor with the optional bright window trim.
This Rambler American is really bogged down. It must be sitting in something of a wash; the desert soil erodes like mad in a heavy rain.
1967, if I’m not mistaken. About the time they offered this stripped 220 two-door for $1999, or something like thta to compete with the VW Beetle.
It’s a pretty eclectic collection back there, including this Suzuki mini-SUV.
Now we’re talking. An International and a Dodge.
I always liked these bug-eye Dodge trucks.
They look more at home here than any of the others.
That doesn’t exactly apply to this Mercedes. I wonder if these were cars that broke down out here, and never got repaired?
It’s a 250 six. Those were a decidedly more fragile than a 220 Diesel, especially in the brutal heat of summer. Overheat and warped the head, maybe?
A couple of old Chevy pickups.
The luxury cars are over back here. We got us a couple of Caddys, a Country squire, and a T-Bird.
The Country Squire’s “wood” has bleached quite thoroughly.
But the “429” badge is still readable.
The Seville bustle back is now a busted back.
I’m not exactly sure what the structure behind the T-Bird is. A missile silo? Bake oven? Sweat lodge?
A Laundau, no less.
This Thunderbird is grounded for good.
The ubiquitous Ford N9, bur sporting wide front tires. Improves the understeer.
A ’62 Rambler Classic, my sentimental favorite.
Nice two-tone paint job.
Back out front, where a Mopar coupe is snuggling up to a prickly pear cactus.
Its flathead six has had its innards exposed to the elements. Think it’ll still turn over?
In that previous post, I guessed this was a Chevy. And I guessed right; a 1928 at that.
The bowtie is missing.
1928 was the last year for the Chevy four, which would be replaced by the first six the next year. As all Chevys did since 1914, this four has overhead valves.
The sheet metal is separating from its wood framing.
I took these shots to clarify how car bodies used to be built, with steel (or aluminum) over wood framing.
It always kills me when I hear about the Morgan “still being built on a wood frame”. Wood body framing, but a steel frame, thank you.
I’m going to let one of you identify this.
Lots of wood in its body too, and a bit worse for the exposure to the elements.
This ’65 Biscayne keeps patrol on the place.
Although Officer Puss was taking a nap at the time.
And here’s the gas station itself. The inside is jammed full of Route 66 Tee shirts, hats and the like.
A rat rod of sorts to attract the tourists.
And on the other side of the garage sits a lone Model A coupe.
Its wood isn’t faring so well either.
Time to hop back in the van and hit the…route 66.