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Another mechanic's ride

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Also spotted at the Mercedes garage, a 1953 Chevrolet Bel Air in anything-but-basic black.






Four-door formality, crazy-cool fins

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Front 'eyebrow' vents are an easy way to tell a '59 Chevrolet from a '60.
   FOR MOST cars offered in a range of body styles, the two-door coupe is the configuration to have. This, you think, is the car the designer first envisioned, clean and simple and meant, above all, to look good. The sedan and wagon versions, grudging concessions to utility, would come later.
   OK, a convertible, if available, can look still sweeter, but what is a convertible but a coupe with a roof that folds for nice days?
   Yet when the car is a 1959 Chevrolet, I'd be as happy with a four-door sedan as a two-door hardtop. Maybe happier.

Cat's eye taillamps were another '59-only cue. The fins were cut back for 1960.
   The sedan just seems to look right – maybe because of the long graceful curve of its roof that begins at the B-pillar, or maybe because of the rear quarter windows that add just enough formality to offset the crazy-cool splayed "batwing" fins that follow.
   And yes, there was an alternate roofline on some '59 Chevrolets and their General Motors sister models – the "flattop" roof on four-door hardtops that seemed to float above a huge wraparound rear window.
   It's spiffy, but I still like the sedan more.
   If 1959 was a monumental year in Cuba, it also represented a revolution of sorts in the GM studios. Design chief Harley Earl's influence was declining as he neared retirement, and a team led by Bill Mitchell took the opportunity to introduce a leaner, streamlined look across the General Motors lines, which for the first time shared a standardized body shell.

The Impala was introduced as a Bel Air trim level in 1958 and became Chevrolet's top-of-the-line model in 1959.

Original wheel and dash, with some add-on gauges.
  Yet 1959 was not without some bold touches that were more in keeping with the Earl era. Think of the canted headlamps of the '59 Buick and the enormous, jet-pod fins of that year's Cadillac.
  The Chevy had its own cues – big eyebrow-shaped openings above the headlamps and broad, cat's eye taillights that gleamed out from below the near-horizontal rear fins.
 
 A year later, these remarkable features would be toned down or eliminated as GM styling, now with Mitchell in firm control, moved closer to the spare, linear look that would dominate in the 1960s.
  To my mind, the '59 Chevrolet has a lot more appeal than its 1960 successor – especially when it's a four-sedan like this well-kept Cuban example.


Rare for Cuba, this Impala has hubcaps (quite possibly the originals) and not aftermarket chrome wheels.







One last view of that '59

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Batwings and cats eyes: the 1959 Chevrolet Impala sedan.


Over the top

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 THE FUNDRAISING campaign for Piotr Degler's upcoming Carros de Cuba photo book has closed at 42,000   well above the original €30,000 goal. Given the quality of Degler's images – three more of which we present here   such success is hardly a surprise.

1959 Chevrolet sedan.

1951 or '52 Buick Super. 

Chrome King: 1958 Oldsmobile Super 88.





Photos © Piotr Degler. Used by permission.
  

Right place, wrong Aston Martin?

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University of Miami. Library. Cuban Heritage Collection. Ramiro A. Fernández Collection: chc52600002940001001.
   WHEN I came across this photo of a Havana race in the University of Miami's Ramiro A. Fernández Collection, I thought the car that has slid up against the hay bales might be the Aston Martin DB 2/4 that recently resurfaced in Cuba.
   Then I noticed that the photo is recorded as being taken on Oct. 10, 1957, which would be months too early for that Aston Martin, a rare, race-prepared 1958 Mark III model.
    This suggests that the DB 2/4 above is from the Mark II series made between 1955 and 1957. It also would be rare. Wikipedia– and we can probably trust it here – reports that only 146 Mark IIs were made in the body style we see here; another 53 were convertibles or "fixed head coupes," also known as hardtops.
  But ... while it's hard to tell from this photo, the taillamps on this Aston Martin do appear more like the elongated lights of the Mark III (1957-1959, 551 produced in all body styles) than the small, bud-like lamps of the earlier series.
  So maybe it is that car.
  Or maybe there's another racing Aston Martin in Cuba, hidden away for decades and perhaps ready to also re-emerge.



   

Runs like a Minx. Or maybe a Horndog

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A minx, it seems, is no relation to a mink. But did Hillman know that?
   I ALWAYS thought that Hillman innocently named its Minx after an animal, unaware that the word would prompt snickers in certain circles – including, I must confess, mine.
   And in Mike Myers' circles too, it seems. "I bet she shags like a minx," his character exclaims in the 1997 movie Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.
   But none other than the Oxford English Dictionary defines minx as "an impudent, cunning or boldly flirtatious girl or young woman"– and traces its origin to the mid-16th century.
   The M-word appears never to have been an alternate form of mink, the weasel-like critter so favoured by furriers. (For an unsettling photo of a mink eating a crayfish, see the Wikipedia entry.)

Raymond Loewy and Associates contributed to the Minx's stately styling.
   Surely then, Hillman would have known in 1932, when it introduced its first Minx, that the name would carry a salacious connotation. Perhaps this was the intent – though if it was, you'd think the British manufacturer might have applied it to something, er, racier than what was from the beginning an upright sedan.
   Sadly for me and my fellow snickerers, Hillman's offering did not spawn a series of impudent imitators, such as, say, the Triumph Trollop or (to spread the sexism around) the Humber Horndog.
   But the Minx, under the stewardship of Hillman's parent, the Rootes Group, would live on through successive models right through to 1970. A midsize vehicle, at least by most of the world's standards, the "faithful family car" enjoyed strong popularity in the 1950s and '60s, when it was built in four countries for numerous markets.
    Not coincidentally, that was the time of the Audax bodystyle, shared between three Rootes marques and partially designed by the firm of Raymond Loewy, who is famous for the 1953 Studebaker Starliner, among other things.
   With wide grille, scooped-out sides and pert, reverse-angle c-pillar, but no overpowering design features, the Audax was a pleasing mix of American cues and British restraint.

Dark glass nicely sets off the white paint of this 1957 or '58 Hillman Minx Series II.
   This Minx's curved bumpers and latticework grille identify it as a 1957 or '58 Series II model. Tinted glass and blacked-out window trim give it a clean, almost modern look, and allow the eye to linger on its exceptional white paintwork.
   I can't tell you if it has its original 1.4-litre overhead-valve gasoline engine or some later diesel, but I do suspect that whatever the powerplant, the performance is more matronly than minx-like.
   Stop snickering. It's still a nice car.



See also:




Video: The last cars out of Cuba

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   SEVERAL U.S. companies hope to restore ferry service between Florida and Cuba, though none have announced even a tentative starting date. Meantime, a series of posts published here on the suspension of the auto and passenger ferry service between Havana and Key West in 1960 continues to be one of this site's most popular topics.
   CARISTAS friend Casey Strong draws our attention to a video on The Guardian's website that shows cars being loaded in Havana and other scenes from the last voyage in 1960.



   Did you see the 1959 Chevrolet convertible? The Ford from New Jersey? Or the Studebaker Lark wearing Illinois "Land of Lincoln" plates?

The earlier posts:

The last cars out of Cuba

That ship has sailed

Two more owners, one more name



A conventional, and thus unconventional, Corvair

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Grilles added to the face of this 1960 Corvair have a functional purpose.
   THE CORVAIR owner smiled as he saw me crossing the airport parking lot with camera in hand.
   "¿Petróleo o gasolina?" I asked, my usual opener, though fully expecting the answer to be gasoline. I don't know of any diesel powerplant that could be an easy substitute for the Corvair's rear-mounted, flat-six gas engine.
   But the owner replied, "Diésel, Toyota," his smile broadening as he watched my expressions of surprise and then, realization. I pointed to the front of the car and he nodded.
   Could I see? Obligingly, he lifted the hood to reveal the four-cylinder Toyota oil-burner nestled in the former luggage compartment as if Ed Cole and Eiji Toyoda had intended it to be there.

Inside the one-time luggage compartment, a diesel four-cylinder.
   Chevrolet built the Corvair from 1960 until 1969. This, almost certainly, is a 1960 model, one of the last American cars to reach Cuba before the supply was cut off (initially for reasons as much economic as political).
   It was a radical design, and not just for the aircooled rear engine that would have seemed more at home in a Volkswagen or Porsche than a Chevrolet. It had unibody construction and fully independent suspension – again, rarities for an American car – and its ungarnished, all-of-a-piece styling stood in elegant contrast to the fins and chrome of its domestic competitors.

Toyota donor car also provided dash, steering column and other parts.
    I didn't need to ask my new friend why he, or someone, had put so much effort into a project that would have required countless changes – the fabrication of a transmission tunnel just one of them – to accommodate the new drivetrain. With private ownership largely restricted to pre-Revolution vehicles until as recently as 2011, this was a way to keep an old car on the road with the benefits of more modern components and, especially, a cheaper-to-run diesel engine.
   But I wish we could have gone for a ride – a brisk one!
 – so I could gauge the effect of the changes on the Corvair's Nader-notorious handling (never so bad as the safety advocate claimed, but frisky all the same).
   He, unfortunately, had a passenger to collect, and I had a plane to catch. So I took a last look at this unconventionally conventional Corvair and we shook hands and parted, both of us smiling.

Vents once helped cool a horizontally opposed six-cylinder gas engine.



See also:

Contrary Compact: The Life and Death of the Chevrolet Corvair: Aaron Severson offers the definitive history of 'one of the most daring cars GM has ever built.'





Hard life for a four-door hardtop

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The owner was happy to pose with his '56 Chevrolet Bel Air Sport Sedan.

Air horns, tow line and Nissan diesel power.
   THE STEEL tow cable stashed behind the grille is just one indication of how this farm-country Chevrolet must work for its living.
   For the original buyer of the 1956 Bel Air, however, the prime attraction was almost certainly style, not utility.
   Why else would he (gender-specific pronoun defensible here) pay a premium – $261 in the U.S., no doubt more in Cuba – for Chevrolet's new four-door hardtop over a traditional four-door Bel Air sedan?
   Convertibles begot hardtops. Even with their canvas roofs raised, convertibles looked sleek and airy, and manufacturers realized they could replicate this pleasing profile in steel by ditching a sedan's door posts, or B-pillars, and removing the metal frames surrounding the side window glass.
   The first hardtops were two-doors, but by the mid-1950s, carmakers were adding pillarless four-doors. General Motors began in 1955 with Buick and Oldsmobile, adding Chevrolet, Pontiac and Cadillac versions the following year. (Confusingly, GM would call the Chevy offering the Sport Sedan and the Cadillac model the Sedan de Ville.)

The Bel Air four-door hardtop was introduced in 1956 and started at $2.329 U.S. The traditional four-door sedan version was $2,068 U.S.
   For the next 20 years, hardtops were the cars to have. My father had a pair of four-doors, both company cars: a 1964 Impala, and a big and beautiful 1966 Buick LeSabre.
   Hardtops, both two- and four-doors, began disappearing in the 1970s. Some suggest this was for safety reasons, but Tim Howley, writing for Hemmings Classic Car, says pillarless models were in fact no less crash-resistant than comparable sedans.
   Hardtops faded from the scene, explains Howley, "because, in the cost-conscious and efficient 1980s, the public simply moved more toward no-nonsense design preferences."
   Design is hardly likely to factor among this Chevy owner's preferences; he wants a workhorse, and with the sturdy Bel Air, now with a Nissan diesel engine in place of the original Blue Flame six or 265-cubic-inch V-8, he has one.
   But what sold that first owner, six decades ago? Could only have been style.




Hail to the chief

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President Obama would likely be quite comfortable in this Cuban Cadillac.
    PLAYING ALONG in a skit for Cuban television, U.S. President Barack Obama asked the comedian known as Pánfilo to pick him up at the Havana airport in an almendrón.
   "We have a lot of almendróns," responded Pánfilo, who with grey beard and Tyrolean hat could be a Latin version of Red Green. "My neighbour Chacón has a '58 Chevrolet."
   Obama's actual ride for the first visit to Cuba by a U.S. president in nearly nine decades is his own state limousine – a much-reinforced Cadillac sedan known as "The Beast."
   Should the presidential Caddy break down, however, and should Pánfilo's neighbour's Chevrolet not be available, this almond-shaped 1958 Cadillac from Santa Cruz del Norte, not far from Havana, could serve as a worthy substitute.

Enough original chrome remains to identify the '58 Caddy as an upscale Sedan de Ville.

Coming soon: Zillions of Americans

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A barbershop with sidewalk view in Santiago, Cuba's second largest city.
   OBAMA'S BEEN there. And before long, every American should be able to travel to Cuba unfettered.
   The United States, but for a dwindling number of hotheads, wants this. Economically, gaining access to a nearby market of more than 11 million people, while at the same time earning goodwill among Latin American nations that have grown frustrated with the decades-old U.S.-Cuba impasse, are big incentives for the U.S. to drop its trade embargo.
   And Cuba, hurting for cash, needs this.
   Even as the island and longtime patron Venezuela drift apart politically, the collapse in oil prices has erased the profits Cuba once made from trading the services of doctors and other professionals for Venezuelan crude.
   Squeezing Cuba even more, however, is the fall of another commodity – nickel.

Tourists outnumber locals at the public beach at Siboney on Cuba's south coast.
   A decade ago, exports of nickel from a vast reserve near Cuba's eastern tip were the island's single largest source of income. Now, with prices dropping to a 13-year-low in February, there's little return from the joint Cuban-Canadian mining operations.
   That leaves tourism to keep on the lights. According to Cuba, 3.5 million people visited last year – a record – and tourism so far this year is up 15 per cent over 2015. But Cuba's hospitality sector is stretched to the limit – or beyond, judging from the shortages of food and other items I saw on the island last month. Huge investment will be needed to make tourism viable on the scale necessary to stabilize the Cuban economy.
   It's said that both Barack Obama and Raúl Castro wish to leave a U.S.-Cuba rapprochement as their legacies. And why shouldn't they desire to be remembered for a deal that could benefit the citizens of both nations?
   But money, as always, is the big motivator here. It's why, despite Fidel Castro's hollow claim that "we don't need the imperio (empire) to give us anything," the two nations will find their way past some seemingly sky-high obstacles – the U.S. presence at Guantanamo Bay just one of them.
   And each will get at least some of it what it wants, or needs.


Cuba often seems to be in a waiting mode, but a cash crunch could hasten change.





Rarely immaculate. Always fascinating

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Not pristine, but this 1954 Chevrolet sedan is certainly a survivor.
   AMERICAN CARbuffs eager to visit Cuba are in for a disappointment, says a countryman who has been to the island.
   "The media has everyone believing that Cuba is some kind of classic car mecca,""Derek911" of Long Island, N.Y., writes on a forum for owners of Porsches and other high-end cars.
  But most of the vehicles he saw were a hodgepodge of parts from all sources, rather than the "immaculate survivors" he expected.
   "You will see better classic cars at a 'cars and coffee' here in the U.S. than you would in Cuba," Derek reports.

  His conclusion? "It's interesting to see so many old cars on the road, but that's about it."
Hillman Minx is a Series IIIa model from 1959.
   Derek's right, of course, about the scarcity of unmolested survivor cars in Cuba.
   Still, it's hard to understand how any auto enthusiast with even a modicum of knowledge about Cuba would have thought otherwise – wide-eyed press reports notwithstanding.
   Unless he truly didn't know that Cuba's old cars, unlike their American counterparts, have never made the transition from daily necessity to weekend hobby.
   Will we see "better" classics at a North American car show? Right again.
   
Another survivor: 1958-60 Mercedes-Benz 220SE.
A hodgepodge Dodge or Ford, perhaps.
   For some of us, though, static rows of pampered, often over-restored Road Runners and Chevelles can be, well, boring.
   Not Cuba, where the streets are an ever-changing mix of automotive decades and origins, and you never know what next – diesel-belching Hudson? Brazilian-built dune buggy? Batista Junior's 1956 Corvette?– will come around the corner.
   Immaculate? Not often.
   Fascinating? Every time.

Chevrolet Styleline Deluxe wagon is a veteran from 1950.



The Fears of a Clown

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The park was deserted, which added to the creepiness.
   LOTS OF people are freaked out by clowns.
   So pervasive is this specific fear, in fact, it's earned its own pop-psychology name: coulrophobia, which is Greek for "I was never the same after I read that Stephen King book."
   If you are coulrophobic, don't ever venture east of Santiago de Cuba along the coastal Carr de Baconao, where this giant clown head stands at the entrance of what appears to be a moribund amusement park.

A safe – or at least, not so unsafe – spot for a scooter

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Tranquil route skirts the Sierra Maestra mountains east of Santiago.
    YES, I RODE a scooter in Cuba again.
   And yes, a year ago I warned that this could be dangerous in a country of poor roads and potentially serious consequences should you be in an accident, including not being allowed to leave until a slow-moving investigation is completed. Similar warnings exist for scooter and moped rentals in Bermuda, Thailand and many other tourist destinations.
   Again, my excuse is that the roads I was on – east of Santiago, but not as far as Guantá
namo Bay – were largely empty but for the occasional horse cart or herd of goats.
   And while this year's Orbit II scooter from the Sanyang Motor Co. ran like a sweetheart, a happy contrast to the gummed-up machine I rode last year, its wee 50-cc gas engine still limited my top speed to "relaxed."

Horse carts are more common than cars.
   I would have liked to have pressed on toward Guantánamo, but I'm told that I would have been turned back at a police checkpoint, and probably not in a cheerful way.
   And I didn't ride in Santiago. I've seen the way they drive in Cuba's second-largest city. I'd be safer trying to break in to Guantá
namo.

Relaxed ride: 50-cc SYM Orbit II, from Taiwan's Sanyang Motor Co.


See also:



Rápido y Furioso in Havana

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Ready for a role? A 1953 Ford sedan.
   MAJOR LAZER, Barack Obama, the Rolling Stones and now a film crew for the latest Fast & Furious movie – Cuba's capital is having quite the year.
   Vin Diesel and Michelle Rodriguez are in Havana and Charlize Theron is expected to arrive soon to shoot the Cuban segment of Fast & Furious 8, which also will be set in New York and the great street-racing nation of Iceland.
   How Cuba will figure into the storyline won't be known until the movie is released in 2017. Judging by earlier instalments of the enormously successful Fast & Furious series, however, we can safely predict that the sequence will include tire smoke, the sound of high-revving engines and various infractions of the laws of 
physics.
   And, of course, old cars. According to the Havana Times, the producers were in Cuba in late 2015 seeking 1950s American cars for potential use in the movie.
   We can be reasonably sure they found some.

In Havana, a 1958 Dodge awaits discovery.
Malecón promenade is said to be among the filming locations.


Fast & Furious 8: A classic battle

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   WE ALREADY know the names of the Hollywood stars who will appear in Fast & Furious 8. Now, thanks to videos emerging from filming of the action movie in Cuba, we can identify two of their Havana automotive co-stars.
  One is a 1956 Ford Customline Tudor. With black paintwork and red rims, it resembles the Ford driven by "Piti" in the Havana Motor Club film documentary, but that car is a more upscale Fairlane Victoria hardtop.
   The other, missing fenders, hood and even doors, is harder to peg, but close inspection reveals it as a 1949-51 Chevrolet Fleetline Deluxe.
  There appear to be some motorcycles, too. But primarily, this looks to be Ford versus Chevy.
  We also see that the producers prepared two copies of each car for the filming. That's standard practice for a big-budget undertaking, of course, but especially prudent in a country where you always want to have a spare.



Crosmobile wagon: A little car lasts a long time

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Apart from the modern mirrors, export-model Crosley looks largely original.
      A LONG while back, I put up photos of this tiny wagon in Havana. Most students of automotive history would have identified it as a Crosley, from the short-lived Crosley Motors Inc. of the United States.
   As the additional photo above reveals, however, it's actually a rarer yet Crosmobile, which was Crosley's export nameplate. The change was reportedly necessary to avoid conflicts with England's Crossley Motors.


To illustrate the diminutive dimensions of a Crosley for sale on topclassiccars.com, a Texas dealer parked it beside a Ford F-150 pickup. It might have fit in the truck bed.
   Crosley made cars from 1939 through 1952, less a four-year interruption for military production in the Second World War. The station wagon was its most popular model, but it also offered  convertibles and sedans, a sports car and even a tiny pickup truck. This wagon is from Crosley's final CD series (1949-1952), and we can further tell from its roll-down windows that it's a 1950 or newer; the '49 had sliding side windows.
   The company was a long-held dream for Powel Crosley Jr., the Cincinnati, Ohio, businessman whose Crosley Radio Corp. had become the world's largest manufacturer of radios in the 1920s thanks to Crosley's designs for simple, inexpensive sets. He expanded into appliances, with products including the famous Shelvador refrigerator, a 1951 example of which still purrs away in my basement.
   Cars, however, were his earliest love. He was just 21 when he first attempted to launch a company to build a low-priced automobile he called the Marathon 6. There were other false starts, but by the 1930s, he finally had the resources to become a vehicle manufacturer.
   Like other strong-minded individuals attempting to seize a place in the car world – Preston Tucker and Elon Musk are two who come to mind – Crosley's ideas ran contrary to the automotive thinking of the day. While models from the established carmakers were growing in bulk and complexity, his creed, as with radios, was "small and simple."


Old Car Manuals Project.
   His first car, then, had a wheelbase of just 80 inches (2,032 millimetres) and weighed 925 pounds (420 kilograms). Ford's best-selling Tudor sedan, in contrast, had a 112-in. (2,845 mm) wheelbase and weighed 2,830 lb. (1,284 kg).
   The initial engine was an air-cooled two-cylinder producing a modest 12 horsepower. In a message to potential buyers, Crosley readily admitted that even the cheapest models from competitors had larger motors. "They need such engines" he continued," because much of the power is not used to transfer passengers or 'payload,' but to move a ton or more of excess steel, required to make these cars 'bigger' than their competitors."
   Instead of dealerships, Crosley elected to sell his cars through department and appliance stores, charging $325 U.S. for a convertible, $350 for a "convertible sedan." Owners could bring their Crosleys to central depots for servicing.
   There were technical innovations as well. Crosley was the first to use caliper disc brakes in a car, and the first to offer an all-steel station wagon – other manufacturers stayed with wood-bodied wagons into the 1950s. Crosley even coined the term "sport-utility"– actually "sports utility"– for a a variant of its wagon with removable canvas top and sides. Not until four decades later would the description be embraced by other automakers.
   Drivers prized Crosley's little fuel-sippers during the wartime gasoline rationing, and after peace arrived, its redesigned model line was welcomed by a market hungry for new cars. In 1948, its best year, it sold 29,000 vehicles.

Crosley models for 1948, from the Old Car Manuals Project.
   But the company made a major misstep with the introduction of a copper and stamped steel engine – the "tin block," in the words of its detractors – that had proven reliable in military use but fared poorly under less scrupulous civilian maintenance. The engine was replaced with a cast-iron powerplant in 1949, but the company's reputation had taken a hit.
   More daunting for the Ohio automaker, though, was the growing preference of buyers for the ever more lavish cars now being turned out in volume by the Big Three and priced, in some cases, little higher than a new Crosley. Sales dwindled, and in July 1952 the final Crosley came off the production line.
   It's been said that if Crosley could have held on for a few years, until economy-minded consumers embraced a wave of imported cars and the compacts that were the domestic manufacturers' response, it could have survived. But it's hard to imagine Powel Crosley throwing more millions at a losing company even as other, better-known U.S. car brands like Packard, Nash and Hudson disappeared in an era of industry consolidation.
   Plus, to succeed, he would have needed bigger cars. Volkswagen's Beetle and the other imports dwarfed the Crosley models, which were on the scale of Japan's kei class and Europe's microcars and ill suited to the high-speed roads spreading across North America by the late 1950s.
   Today you might see a Crosley in a parade – the marque has long been a favourite of Shriners – or at a car show. Or you might come across this Crosmobile in Havana, still serving as testament to Powel Crosley's belief in the value of simplicity.








See also:






A man and not his bicycle

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Veteran 10-speed bicycle is a low-cost rental.
   THIS MAN is Canadian, and so is the 10-speed he holds, an iconic Supercycle from the Canadian Tire retail chain. But this isn't his bike. It would have arrived in Cuba, perhaps years ago, with one of his countrymen. It's long been a practice for Canadian visitors to bring old bikes, ride them for the duration of their stay and then leave them on the island in the hope that Cubans can put them to good use. And the Cuban who now owns this Supercycle has done just that, renting it to tourists such as this gentleman for 10 CUC a week.
   Good deal all around.


El último Americano

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End of the line: LeSabre was last direct U.S. import, Santiago museum says.
   THIS 1960 Buick LeSabre occupies a prime display slot at the Museo Nacional del Transporte, an outdoor car museum near Santiago.
   Its significance? According to the museum, the four-door luxury sedan was the final new car exported directly to Cuba from the U.S.
   It would have arrived, then, in late 1959, the last of a trickle of vehicles and other items from the U.S. after the new Castro government froze all credit on the island, effectively shutting down commerce.
   In his book Che's Chevrolet Fidel's Oldsmobile, researcher Richard Schweid reports that a shipment of 1960 Oldsmobiles plus a few Chevrolets were the last cars to arrive from Detroit. Evidently, a Buick also found its way into the mix to be delivered to the island's Buick agency, Vaillant Motors in Havana's Vedado district.

1960 Buick still bears a sticker from Vaillant Motors of Havana.




Mass transit in Cuba's Second City

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An International truck hauls passengers in Santiago de Cuba.
    HAVANA ANCHORS Cuba's northwest coast; Santiago, the island's next largest city, holds a similar status on the southeast shore. The two cities differ hugely – in terrain (one largely flat; one all hills), in climate (one temperate; one hot), in culture (Havana is hardly sedate, but Santiago, with its Afro-Caribbean roots, has a sensual sway).
   In transportation, too. The standard municipal bus in Havana is a modern articulated Yutong from China. In Santiago – as in rural Cuba – converted American trucks from the 1950s are the primary people movers.

Seating is tight on the makeshift bus. So is standing.



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