Even before touring the city of Havana proper, I am enthralled by the alternating flow of shiny and rumpled, rusting metal objects on the streets. These are cars; vehicles like I remember them only vaguely in my distant pubescent past. Some look like my first love, a Plymouth Fury (I think 1960 model) that my parents let me buy while I was still in high school - previous century). Anyway, there is no end to the photo and game opportunities as I try over and over to guess what model of American (and/or Russian) automobile is hogging the scenery or landmark.
Some of these phantasms of the past are irretrievably rendered chained to the curb or driveways, mainly because their parts for maintenance are no longer of this world. Often one sees men peering intently under the hood or underneath running boards as though they are looking for lost parts. One car in particular appeared to have got religion, but most are remarkably gussied up to lure passengers, tourists and locals both.