By Jim Hagarty
For years I have been driving by a local auto dismantler and I always look over at a 1949 Packard sitting there, rusting away, by the side of the road, the driver’s side window missing or wound down, leaving the interior open to the elements, winter and summer. I actually didn’t know it was a Packard until I dropped into the business today and asked the owner if I could take pictures of it. It was a classy car in its day. It has a vinyl covering on its roof. When I was a kid, the best cars had vinyl roofs. It also has “suicide doors”, the back doors opening into traffic instead of with it.
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Author: Jim Hagarty
I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.
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