My father had a 1964 (perhaps '65) Pontiac Laurentian station wagon that covered an acre standing and an acre and a half moving. It wasn't new when it joined our family, and it finally met its end in the late '70s when Dad sold it as "a 283 GM engine in excellent condition surrounded by a crumbling station wagon". It was the only car my mother ever managed to drive -- don't ask me how; the thing was at least 18 feet long. Of course, she didn't drive it well, and she eventually killed it -- broke the frame, which was severely weakened by more than a decade of Ottawa winter road salt -- by walloping the back end against the stone foundation of the Bytown Museum.

You could put a family of six quite comfortably in that car for a two-week road trip, and it would sleep two adults comfortably in the cargo space with the back seat let down. I'd hate to have to park it -- let alone gas it up -- today.