The test of time

Orange cones narrowed us down to one lane, so I settled in for a long wait. After a few minutes of staring at the car in front of me, I feel it tugging at me. Nothing extraordinary about it except it’s picking at something in the recesses of my mind.

Finally, the lid comes off and I’m back almost five decades, standing in the aisle of the auto parts store where I earned my gas money. What product here would be so utile as to endure that test of time?

Amber bulb dye? Not a chance. It was a fad. When the 1963 models changed from clear to amber turn signals, people wanted to appear to be on the cutting edge. Painting the signal bulbs on your Hudson wasn’t going to convince anyone that it just rolled off the showroom floor. But, if that’s what they wanted, I’d ring it up. Thought it was the silliest thing I’d ever see in that vein, but was wrong.

How about that continental kit? True, putting your spare tire in a decorative casing mounted on the rear bumper was an affectation. But, there was the practical value of additional trunk space. It would fade away.

Next to them, the suicide knobs. The swivel knob that mounted on the steering wheel so you could be stylin’ with your drivin’. May be the progenitor of the Detroit Lean. They would be legislated out of existence.

I look further down the aisle in my vision and we may have a winner. Curb feelers. The stiff wires that projected from the passenger side of the car and issued an audible warning before you scraped your rocker panels. Now there’s a useful product with long-term possibilities. Not.

What’s this I see on the end cap? A cardboard poster with cellophane envelopes stapled to it. Inside the envelopes are cardboard silhouettes of pine trees impregnated with the most gawdawful scent this side of Pine-Sol. If your body odor is more eye watering than this stuff, you have problems that can’t be solved in a parts store. These things would never last.

But, they did.