MY RIDE: 1948 Chrysler New Yorker

PHOTOS BY STEPHEN FINERTY

A San Francisco native and Vietnam veteran, Jesse Lemic is a former construction superintendent who performs occasionally in local theatre productions in Santa Cruz, where he now lives.

In 1948, my uncle bought a new Chrysler New Yorker convertible. Driving it today is like stepping inside a time machine.

When my sister was born at Children's Hospital on California Street in 1949, she was brought home in the Chrysler. My cousin tells of the times she rode through Chinatown with her friends in the back seat, top down, with the glorious sunshine illuminating 1950s San Francisco.

When my uncle was away at sea aboard the SS Lurline he would ask my father to "take the Chrysler for a spin" - and we were off on a Sunday drive through the Sonoma countryside. My mom still talks about the people who gaped with envy as we cruised across the Golden Gate Bridge.

In the 1950s we all moved to Southern California, where the Chrysler continued to be part of our family activities. Holidays and family celebrations most often included my aunt and uncle arriving in their regal Chrysler, and there were plenty of times when a car full of rambunctious kids begged for the top to be put down. But the '50s and '60s also included the inevitable aging that any car goes through: a new top, a scratch here, a ding there, new paint and new upholstered seats. Finally in 1968 the engine froze, and unable to repair - or even start - the car, my uncle went out the next day and bought a brand-new Chrysler New Yorker.

So what to do with the old one, a 20-year-old relic of postwar glory?

I was on weekend liberty from my duty aboard the USS Horne (DLG-30), and I raised my hand and said, "I'll buy it." And so I bought Uncle Arthur's cherished 1948 Chrysler New Yorker convertible for one penny. And I've owned it ever since.

Now I wish I could say "happily ever after," but that isn't the case. It was a few years before I could afford to repair it, but finally I had the engine rebuilt, and the Chrysler was once again on the road to San Francisco. I lived there for about one year and would occasionally drive down to San Jose to visit my sister via Highway 35 - because Highway 280 wasn't built yet!

I found that city living was not really what I wanted, and so I moved back to Southern California. I continued to drive the Chrysler for occasional recreation, but less and less. I once again moved north, to San Jose, but this time the Chrysler remained behind.

And so it sat, day after day, year after year. I always had the thought and intention that "someday" I'd get around to fixing it up, but it wasn't until the mid-1990s that I finally decided to do something with the Chrysler before it disintegrated. I towed it to Santa Cruz, where I now live, and began a slow process of rehabilitating the car.

Now, though the restoration is far from complete, I imagine the day when it will be restored to its former glory. I frequently drive around town and receive many wonderful compliments. Little kids point and say, "Mommy, look at that car."

I remember one time I was stopped at a traffic light. A well-dressed man walking by stopped, looked at the Chrysler and said to me, "That is a beautiful car. It is a thing of beauty."

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