A reader’s ‘dumb’ question sparks J.C. Whitney memories

By GREG ZYLA

Every once in a while, a simple question arrives in my mailbox that does more than seek an answer. It opens a door to another time. That’s what happened when I received a handwritten letter from my old friend Alan Young of Ranshaw, Pa., asking if I remembered curb feelers.

Instantly, I was transported back to the days when we were young, cars were simpler, and the arrival of a J.C. Whitney catalog in the mailbox could spark hours of dreaming about chrome accessories, speed parts and automotive gadgets that ranged from ingenious to downright ridiculous.

Q: Greg, I have a dumb question for you from a dumb person. Do you happen to remember the “curb feelers” on older cars back in the day? I sure do. Thank you from your dumb friend from Brady (Ranshaw, Pa.). Signed, Alan Young, now living in Shamokin, Pa.

A: Alan, I wouldn’t call that a dumb question at all. In fact, it brought back some wonderful memories. And it’s great hearing from you again.
Your question about curb feelers prompted me to write about one of my favorite automotive memories: the J.C. Whitney auto parts catalogs and some of the wildest automotive gadgets ever sold.
And yes, it has everything to do with items like the curb feelers you remember, featured in those J.C. Whitney catalogs. Those catalogs seemed to arrive in every household in America during the 1950s and 1960s, whether you requested one or not. To me, the J.C. Whitney catalog was almost as important as the Sears & Roebuck Christmas Wish Book. Unlike the Wish Book, J.C. Whitney catalogs arrived every month instead of once a year.

Back then, fixing a car was almost as easy as opening a J.C. Whitney catalog. Long before the internet, gearheads, weekend mechanics, and car and truck lovers thumbed through hundreds of pages filled with everything from hard-to-find replacement parts to products promising miracle cures for tired engines, dented pride, and empty wallets. Some gadgets actually worked. Others belonged somewhere between automotive genius and comic sideshow relief. Either way, J.C. Whitney made owning a car or truck a lot more fun.

So, with full respect to J.C. Whitney and my friend Alan Young, here’s my Baker’s Dozen of crazy items the catalog offered, regardless of whether they worked or not.

1. Curb Feelers
Yes, Alan, curb feelers are one of my top picks. These classic spring steel wires mounted near the front wheels scraped the curb before your whitewall tires did. They made an unmistakable “ting-ting-ting” sound when you got too close. Some drivers who parallel parked frequently installed curb feelers at the rear of the car, too.

2. Static Ground Straps
Those rubber strips with metal conductors that dragged on the pavement to “discharge static electricity” and supposedly prevent shocks when entering or exiting your car. Every third car seemed to have one in the 1960s.

3. Piston Ring Repair Pellets
Tiny pellets dropped through the spark plug hole that supposedly sealed worn piston rings, reduced oil burning, and restored compression. If it sounds too good to be true, it was. I tried these pellets once in a friend’s oil-burning 396 Camaro. As I recall, you had to drop them into the spark plug holes while the engine was still hot. I ended up with a car that still burned oil and several burned fingers.

4. Gas-Saving Carburetor Magnets
Magnets clamped to the fuel line that allegedly aligned fuel molecules and boosted mileage. No one understood the theory. The result? Thousands sold. Scientific proof? Not so much.

5. Fake Whitewalls (Portawalls)
Why spend big money on factory whitewall tires when J.C. Whitney offered white rubber inserts that sandwiched between the wheel and tire? Known as Portawalls, they gave everything from a Chevy sedan to a Ford wagon a touch of luxury.
When installed correctly, they looked surprisingly authentic, although some had a habit of turning yellow, cracking, or slipping out of place. Still, for young car enthusiasts on a budget, they were often worth every penny. This was a suitable time to add curb feelers, as hitting a curb could destroy a Portawall.
Further, paint-on and glue-on whitewall kits were also offered. The promise of turning ordinary blackwall tires into luxury-car whitewalls for just a few dollars was hard to resist. Unfortunately, the white coating didn’t last long, and the tires soon looked worse for wear.

6. Winky the Cat
A white stuffed cat whose eyes lit up or flashed. Mounted in the rear window, it appeared to stare at motorists behind you. J.C. Whitney still features and sells the item in its nostalgia collection.

7. Mustang Horse Horn
A horn that produced a horse’s whinny instead of a normal honk. Perfect for the Ford Mustang owner who wanted everyone within three blocks to know he was around.

8. Fuzzy Interior Accessories
Fuzzy steering wheel covers, fuzzy mirror covers, fuzzy dashboard trim, fuzzy everything. J.C. Whitney even recalls its famous fuzzy accessories today online.

9. Headlight Eyelids
I always loved these chrome trim pieces that made headlights look sleepy or more aggressive, depending on your point of view. The custom crowd loved them, and I still do.

10. Electric Defrosters
Little electric heaters that sat on the dashboard and plugged into the vehicle’s electrical system. They promised to clear frosted windshields, yet barely warmed your fingertips.

11. Wolf Whistles, Ahooga Horns, Sirens and Other Sound Effects
Devices that turned your ordinary horn into a wolf whistle, police siren, train horn, or other attention-grabbing noise. Most communities today would probably frown upon them.

12. Steering Wheel Suicide Spinner Knobs
Before power steering became commonplace, these handy gadgets clamped to the steering wheel and allowed drivers to spin the wheel with one hand while parking. Most were plain black or chrome, but custom versions came as dice, skulls, eight balls, and other eye-catching designs. Truckers, taxi drivers, and hot rodders loved them. Some states later frowned on their use, but they were a J.C. Whitney staple.

13. Dummy Spotlights
This dummy product is special for you, Alan Young. These spotlights looked exactly like the police-style spotlights found on high-end cars, but they didn’t work. They simply clamped to the windshield pillar and gave your family sedan the appearance of a detective car. They ranked high in style and low in practicality, which made them the perfect addition to this J.C. Whitney Baker’s Dozen.

Honorable Mention J.C. Whitney Crazies
Other memorable offerings included continental kits for compact cars, fake hood scoops, exhaust whistles that made a six-cylinder sound “sporty,” fake wire wheel covers, novelty third brake light kits years before federally mandated high-mounted stop lamps, fender-mounted traffic lights, giant sun visors, stick-on chrome hood portholes, under-dash tissue dispensers, and lake pipes that didn’t even connect to the exhaust system.

Long before Amazon, eBay, and online influencers promised miracle fixes, car enthusiasts relied on the J.C. Whitney catalog. Buried among thousands of legitimate parts were products that ranged from clever innovations to laugh-out-loud gimmicks. Some actually worked. Others simply lightened your wallet. All of them, however, provided great stories.

J.C. Whitney remains one of the most recognizable names in automotive mail-order history. Sometimes it’s just as much fun looking at those old products today as it was dreaming about owning them decades ago. Readers who would like another trip down memory lane can visit J.C. Whitney’s website, where a special Vintage J.C. Whitney Catalog Gallery celebrates many of the quirky accessories mentioned here. Thanks for your handwritten letter, Alan, and continued best wishes to my Ranshaw friend.
P.S. Alan Young and I both bowled in the Thursday Night Men’s Bowling League at the Crown Lanes in Shamokin. He was one of the top bowlers in that league. Me? Not so much. LOL.

Greg Zyla is a syndicated auto columnist who welcomes reader interaction on collector cars, auto nostalgia, or motorsports at extramile_2000@yahoo.com or at 303 Roosevelt St., Sayre, PA 18840.