‘Paradise lost’ or ‘How we eagerly and blindly fell in with the
take-no-hostages Automotive and Petroleum twins’.
The providential element of being an astute observer lies in the timing.
In this case I successfully positioned myself to grow up in Sweden and
Norway in the 1950’s.
There were skis, as in transportation. I have actually commuted to
school on skis, although for you who may abhor childhood hardship
stories I hasten to add that this was done only when there was snow on
the ground. We nimbly braved what little motorized traffic there was
with youthful abandon. A small forest of parked skis were rooted in the
snow banks in front of our school house. Our class room smelled of
drying wool mittens perched on clanking central heating radiators. We
skidded around on puddled floors. The skis themselves were utilitarian
and no special skiing outfits existed in our world. We skied in the same
outfit we rode the street car in or went to the Saturday movie matinee
in. At birthday parties we boys merely added a bow tie.
Year round there was prodigious walking. My grandmother and I, lugging
wicker baskets with groceries, would routinely get off the streetcar
several stops before her house in order to save the less than five cents
in zone surcharge. My grandparents were not poor, merely frugal and they
had grown up walking everywhere.
A flashy traveling salesman uncle of mine drove one of very few Ford
V8:s within our national borders. When he pulled up at our apartment
building admiring crowds would quickly but cautiously gather. You are
what you drive, which was particularly nice for this uncle. There was
surplus glory also for me to bask in.
Otherwise us boys owned the city swiftly moving around on blue,
bell-clanging, street cars. Without prodding we vacated its polished,
wooden seats for ladies. While greater acts of chivalry may be found, it
was never-the-less indicative of our society’s level of common courtesy
and consideration.
For travel over greater distances the arrival and departure of trains
and passenger ships were climactic and celebrated community events,
providing emotional and mind expanding opportunities to gather, to watch
and be seen. Above all trains and ships held the lure of exotic places,
opportunity, adventure and romance. Elation such as this can never be
even remotely imagined or simulated by backing one’s car out of the
garage.
Horses, carts, bikes and trikes were still used for deliveries and light
transport. There were of course a modest number of cars besides my
uncle’s. I recall vividly when my buddies and I spotted our first
Studebaker: “Mom, you won’t believe it. You can’t tell the front from
the rear!” My friend Pelle wondered whether it needed a reverse gear as
it looked like it had two front ends. Later I learned that he had gone
on to a distinguished political career.
There were all sorts of odd, fun, personable little cars (unlike today’s
smooth, highly accomplished conformity) such as tinny Lloyds, sardine
can-like Citroen CV2s with rubber band suspension, phone booth styled
Populars and Anglias, Messerschmidt motorcycle cars and sleek SAAB:s
flaunting their airplane heritages, VW bugs with two small rear windows,
and stodgy, stolid Volvos with lines replicated with embarrassing ease
in wood shop. These early cars made noise out of proportion to their
numbers and modest power. Their exhaust smelled and spelled Progress.
At that time cars were still treated like newly arrived guests, i.e.
with reserved curiosity and friendliness. Little did we suspect how
quickly and resoundingly these guests would overstay their welcome, make
themselves feel at home, and move out horses, carts, streetcars, trains
and eventually bicycles and pedestrians.
Back then a child would in the course of a day be exposed to more
bicycles than ads. Most folks seemed to ride a bike. One ad declared the
Husquarna bicycle to be the easiest to pedal, and it also would “get you
there first”. Ads were particularly effective at that time as we were
brought up to have unflagging trust in adults. While we otherwise prided
ourselves on being a rational, albeit a bit dull, society the underlying
premise of adult-child communication was that the adult was always
right. Just like the storekeeper was always right. That insincere
nonsense that the customer is always right was yet to enrich our
culture.
On my sixth birthday I was presented with a gleaming, red, one speed
Husquarna bicycle. However, it turned out to be no easier to pedal than
Pelle’s blue Monark. Furthermore the ad’s “there” clearly did not refer
to our local candy shop, because Pelle beat me there every time, except
once when he got a flat.
What saved me from turning a cynic at an early age? Cynicism was simply not an option in our neighborhood of self-proclaimed very nice people. Growing up in a major port city we had a few not so well mannered sailors sometimes idling away their time between voyages in dives down by the docks. They would be the ones expected to indulge in assorted unsavory behavior such as cynicism, smelling of beer and shouting mild obscenities.
This was a time of transition, which allowed us to cough from car
exhaust and simultaneously step in horse manure in the streets.
Prosperity was yet to reach the masses. Those who shall suggest what is
obvious today, i.e. that no prosperity is needed to purchase a car must
realize that payment on terms was then simply unheard of. And who had a
driver’s license?
edited 02/10/17 0830
