My final car photo for a while, and my favorite so far this year. I can see myself in this car, in 1927.

First road trip, about eight miles north of my mom’s hometown, to watch some sport named Lindbergh take off from Roosevelt Field, in a little monoplane named “The Spirit of St. Louis.” If we could find a telephone, heck, they’d just hooked up transatlantic service, so you could tell a friend on the other side of the puddle, to drive to England’s south coast, and watch for Lucky Lindy passing overhead, on his way to Paris.

Then I’d dude up, in a pencil-striped, double-breasted suit. Kind of extravagant at $11.45, but if you can afford this car…

We could go watch Babe Ruth hit a few home runs, or if you want to go to the pictures, we’d drive to the Roxy to see Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis”, find a speakeasy that could mix a French 75, or swing by Ziegfeld’s new theatre to see “Show Boat”.

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1920's, Automobiles, History, photography

’27 Mercedes

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