Jive-Bomber submitted a new blog post: Car Spotting on the 1950 Streets of San Francisco! (Part II) Continue reading the Original Blog Post
I'd really like to see more of the dark colored car in the pic, I watched the video and I couldn't see it any better. It's a beater for sure, maybe a 37 Chevy without a grille? The way the light reflects looks like a one piece windshield...
Those were the good old days. Just think, you could fill your gas tank for $5, good gas mileage was 16 mpg , Detroit was king and Made In the USA ruled our economy.
It looks to me like a time of growth and opportunity. I sometimes feel like I was born too late. I am a bit envious of those here that can look at these videos and remember them...
I saw what looked like a 33-34 Ford Phaeton, with its top down, at the 2:01 mark! And the Ford fordor at 0:21 sounded healthy!
A lot of '55 Chevys and a couple DD baby birds. Having been a 50 year resident, got out in 2020, I noticed a lot of landmark buildings gone and street parking was as congested then as it is now. Great vid.
Hello, San Francisco has always been close to my heart. Our early road trips in our dad’s big Buick sedans, I am sure, played a big part of the memories stashed away somewhere in that little brain during the late 40s-serly 50s. We made many road trips up the coast to the S.F. Bay area to see the sights and old friends. Then when he got another new Buick sedan, he wanted to go on another road trip and we did go to San Francisco, but, crossed the state and ended up on the dry climate side of the huge mountain range close to the desert. San Francisco was usually a part of our road trips North. One day, in 1948, I was being a “bad boy” and got sent to another room to cool off. My mom had some friends over and they were all talking at once and I must have said something that did not agree with her or her friends. So, off to the other room I was banished for an hour. At that stage, who knew how long an hour was going to be? So, for the next hour or so, I got involved in a little scratch in the wall paper and soon, it was a larger hole, about the size of a hardball. By the time my mom came into the room, the hole had grown mysteriously to be able to put my hands through to the other side, my own room. It was a cool window for talking and transporting things. Well, my mother did not see it that way and was totally disgusted with her “cute little boy.” “Who are you? Where did you come from? Do I know you at all?” All questions we have all heard at one time or another during our lifetimes. My answer out of the clear blue sky: “I am George, from San Francisco.” At family gatherings, it was one of the funniest moments described to all present. But, the connection from those early road trips must have done a number on me. My wife and I went there, going up the coastline countless times during college for vacations and photo shoots. Prior to the pandemic, our Northwest road trips also had a stop over in San Francisco. It is just one of those places that gets stuck in our collective minds for a great place to be… Jnaki The turn table at the Powell Street connection. Later on in our vacation days a French Hotel for the experience and access to walking to the close by trolley rides. All played a part of S.F. that we got used to using, hopping on and off at varying points, all over the city. After a nice 51-52 Oldsmobile sedan goes through an intersection at 2:33, A black 56 Chevy hardtop zips through an intersection, but no other 1956-57 cars. An old T-Bird blasts through behind the endless supply of busses and street cars. At 3:36, the colorization almost captures a yellow 51-52 Oldsmobile Sedan like my brother’s Yellow 51 sedan. But that Oldsmobile Sedan never left So Cal during the time of ownership. One other thing, where were all of the big cruising Buick sedans from that era? This one had several trips under its belt and ended up the last one to visit the Bay Area… The last visible truck was a colorized pink truck parked in front of a parking garage. When my wife and I stayed in the French Hotel, there was no parking around the place. But we were directed to paid parking across the street in a similar parking garage. It worked well to always have a spot to come back to after visiting the far reaches of whole city. The Clift Hotel was several blocks over from the Cornell French Hotel where we experienced a different way to see and stay in San Francisco. We learned to use the trolley system just steps away from our hotel and hopped on different ones all over the city.
The Jalopy Journal
