Dad flew up (to Dexter, Iowa) from Texas where he was training advanced cadets. He was in time for my birth in June 1944 (two days before D-Day). He bought the Chevy from the town banker and left it for his dad to make sure it could make the trip to Texas, which is when the photo was taken.
Dad was stopped in one town and warned that a tire had a dangerous bulge. They couldn’t buy new tires in those days so they had it patched it.
The gas gauge didn’t work and they ran out of gas 10 miles from Marfa, Texas. It was dark. Mom and I stayed in the car while he hitched a ride into town for gas!
This is the first car I remember. When Dad bought the 1952 Chevy, the old one became his workhorse, carrying tools and farmer things. It had a knob on the dash to switch for the loud country horn and quieter city horn. The seats were a plush fabric and I can still smell the mustiness.
(They dubbed it the C-39 because all the Army planes were designated with a letter and number. Dad’s brother flew 13 missions over the “Hump” in a real C-47.)
Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II