Cuba’s Classic Cars Tell the Story https://havanaoohonahnah.wordpress.com/2018/06/13/cars/ cubatraveler Uncategorized June 13, 2018
Even if you don’t know much about Cuba, you probably know about its rum and cigars, its classic American cars, and its late dictator, Fidel. The cars are baby-boomers, all over 60 years old. These classic beauties have been almost miraculously maintained and kept on the streets through Cuban skill and resourcefulness — and out of necessity. Thanks to Fidel. American Beauties in Cuba. Every morning, the American classic cars line up in front of Havana’s hotels, gleaming in the sunshine, ready to start the day’s work of transporting tourists around the city. For obvious reasons, convertibles are the most popular. These beauties are for hire by the hour, for roughly $30 to $40 (U.S.), either for a daytime drive around the city, or an evening cruise along the malecon, the four-mile-long seawall overlooking the harbor. Some of the classic cars operate as taxis for hire, for just getting from place to place without the sightseeing cruises. They are clearly marked with a “taxi” sign. You can get a ride in a taxi within the city for about $1 to $5. Taxi drivers pay a daily tax of about $20 to the central government and the remainder of the fares are theirs to keep. Maybe because I’m a baby boomer myself, I was enthralled by these cars that are still running strong after 60 or 70 years. I couldn’t stop taking pictures of them. They conjured up early childhood memories of family drives, with my younger brother and me sitting in the cavernous back seat of a navy blue 1950 Plymouth. Bench seats, not bucket seats. No seat belts. Our parents chatting in the front seat. Smoking Chesterfield cigarettes. Smoke streaming out the open windows. No AC. No radio. But ample ashtrays, front and back. It was indeed another time. Before going to Cuba, I’d heard about the American classic cars. What I didn’t know was that they are not novelties: they are the norm. The majority of cars on the streets of Havana were imported before October, 1960 when the U.S. embargo (called the blockade by Cubans) began. If I had to guess — and I have to, since I can’t find any statistics on this — I would say at least 70% of all cars in Havana are American classics. Maybe more. Auto writer Jonathan Harper, in an article in Jalopnik, estimates there are 60,000 pre1959 American cars still on the roads and streets of Cuba. Travel website anywhere.com agrees: These days, there are around 60,000 classic American cars in Cuba. Experts estimate that about half of these cars hail from the 1950s, while 25 percent are from the 1940s and another 25 percent are from the 1930s. The cars are often family heirlooms, passed down from generation to generation.
And the Runners Up Are. So, what about the rest of the cars, the ones that aren’t American beauties? Some are 1980s Russian Ladas, still running. They are hardly classics — more like leftovers from the Cold War decades when Russia was Cuba’s “sugar daddy.” The Soviet Union sent Cuba oil and autos, and $10 million a day. Yes, $10 million a day. That’s the price the Soviet Union was willing to pay for 30 years to maintain its communist showpiece in the Western Hemisphere — close enough to the U.S. to throw some shade, so to speak. In return, Cuba sent the Soviets citrus, sugar, and rum, and no doubt some cigars for the boys in the Kremlin. But the balance of trade was obviously lopsided. Cuba’s dependency came to an end when the Soviet Union fell apart about 30 years ago. The old Ladas are vestiges of that era. However, I learned that in 2017 about 325 new Ladas were imported to Cuba, not for purchase by Cuban citizens, but for use as various kinds of official government vehicles. They may be the first new Ladas to enter the country in decades.
Engine Transplants, and Donor Parts from the Hospital Many of the classic American cars have transplanted Russian engines under the hood, transplanted by ingenious Cuban mechanics. I heard that new coolant systems are jerry rigged from IV tubing acquired from hospitals. A concoction of shampoo, sugar and alcohol substitutes for brake fluid. Parts from other American classic are sometimes donors, too. Some people refer to the cars as “Frankensteins.” I imagine all kinds of other unexpected things are found under the hoods of the American beauties. The old car pictured here may have been an engine donor. It’s obviously been sitting on the side of the street for a while. Not sure if its innards are still there or not.
In recent years Cuba has been importing cars from China. Chinese-made Geelys are used by the government as police cars and other official vehicles. They are very ordinary-looking 4-door sedans. (I didn’t take photos of them since tourists are discouraged from photographing police or military officers, or their vehicles.) The “coco cab” is another Chinese import, but it’s not exactly a car. It’s a small 3-seater on three wheels that operates as a taxi. Of course they are government-owned — are you noticing a pattern here? — and are leased to their drivers. They look like big cute yellow coconuts. Thus, the name. Solid yellow ones are for tourists, and they charge about $5 to go almost anywhere in the city. The ones with black stripes are for Cubans only. They charge a different fare, in a different currency. Yes, there are two currencies in Cuba, one for the Cubanos, and another one for turistas. The dual currency is just one example of craziness and contradiction in Cuba’s economy, its so-called “centrally planned economy.” Whoever was at the center, whoever did the planning, didn’t get the desired results, assuming the plan was for an efficient prosperous economy.
First the Mob, then the USSR, then What? Cuba’s economy is sadly dysfunctional. It thrives only when foreigners infuse money. That’s how it prospered from the 1930s through 1959, with U.S. mobsters investing in hotels and casinos and nightclubs. They wanted to create another Monte Carlo. That sector of the economy did indeed thrive, but most of the money was in the hands of the corrupt government and the U.S. mafia who “earned” millions every day from the casinos. Still, it provided jobs for as any boom era does. Then Fidel and his band of merry revolutionaries descended from the mountains and chased the mob’s best friend, President Fulgenio Batista, out of Cuba. They very swiftly shut down U.S. and European businesses in Cuba, both legitimate and mob-run businesses, draining the economy drastically. The country only made it through the first three decades of La Revolución because the USSR which propped up the economy that Fidel had crushed. Today, the post-Fidel government is putting its stock in tourism and foreign investment in hotels once again. One would think that an island in the Caribbean might find a way to invest in solar energy, or revive its long-gone fishing industry. Heck, why not restore the agricultural sector? There is fertile land that is not in production and Cuba imports much more of its food than one would imagine. Even our 5-star restaurant used imported canned mushrooms and veggies at the omelet station in the dining room. And rice, the staple of the Cuban diet? Most of it is imported from Vietnam. Yet ration coupons entitle every Cuban to six pounds of rice monthly, whether they are a baby or an octogenarian. Contradictions. Craziness. Viva la Revolución? As Cuba struggles to revive tourism, the blue Transtur buses have become ubiquitous. You guessed it: they are made in China and owned by the government. All tour bus drivers are government employees, as are the tour guides. Pretty much everyone in Cuba works for the government, and pretty much everything is owned by the government, although that has been gradually changing in the post-Fidel era. As our tour guide, who has only been allowed to leave Cuba one time in his 58 years, told us, with a sad smile, “The government owns me, too.” In Carlos Eire’s extraordinary memoir of his privileged early childhood in a oncewealthy Havana neighborhood, he describes Fidel’s takeover of all private property, including his parents’ and relatives’ bank accounts, businesses and homes. Yes. I know, everything became the property of all Cubans, to be shared equally, according to need. Yes, I know, Fidel didn’t expropriate anything all by himself, or for his own gain, not even a pencil sharpener, or a discarded shaving from a pencil stub. I also know that Fidel wasn’t as interested in anyone’s house, literally, as he was in their souls. He wanted to rule over every household, totally, and forever. He wanted to own all Cubans, not just their homes. And he succeeded. (Waiting for Snow in Havana: Confessions of a Cuban Boy) Can I Please Buy a Car Now? I’ve Saved Up for 100 Years. If your family owned an auto in 1959 at the time of La Revolución, the car could remain in the family as private property. La Revolución put a halt to private ownership of businesses, factories, farms, fisheries, banks, casinos, hotels, and homes . . . regardless of whether they were owned Cuban citizens or foreign individuals or companies. But the cars stayed in the families. As private property, their status was unique status. They became Cubans’ family jewels, heirlooms
from the pre-revolutionary era. One of the most amazing stories I discovered, not while I was in Cuba, but later, is the story of a doctor, an immunologist, who was earning next to nothing, as doctors do in Cuba. After many years, she gave it up to realize her true dream and to make a decent living. Her dream was to restore her greatgrandfather’s 1929 Ford and earn her living driving tourists around the city. (Click here for Nelys’ story on You Tube. and to see her gorgeous classic Model T.) This is Cuba’s upside-down-backward economy. She makes so much more as a driver than she could have dreamed of making as an M.D. Since La Revolución, if you happened to have enough money and could even find a car to buy — neither of those very likely — you needed a government permit to do so. It’s not clear how many people got those permits, but it’s highly likely that only high-ranking members of the Cuban Communist Party had the money, got permits, and bought cars. Carlos Eire, in his book, says he used to see Che Guevara, the revolutionary who wanted to abolish money altogether, driving his new Mercedes Benz in and out of his huge estate in 1960, the year after the revolution, when Cubans assumed common ownership of everything. They had to turn in their money and exchange it for the new currency, but only a very small amount was allowable. Make no mistake. Cuba has its one percent, and they are Communist officials who gather at the beautiful Capitol building to debate and vote in the National Assembly. As our tour guide explained, they are perfectly free to vote either way they choose on any matter. “Yes” or “Absolutely yes.” Viva la Revolución. In 2008, when Raul took over from his ailing and aging big brother Fidel, some restrictions began to ease. By 2014, permits were no longer required to by cars. So today, you would expect to see many more Cubans driving new cars, right? Oh no, no, no. That is not the way it is. Most Cubans, even if they could find a new car to buy, would never be able to afford it. In an article for Reuters in 2014, Daniel Trotta, referring to the new freedom to buy an auto, wrote, “The new system fell flat when markups equating to four to five times the base price left supposedly cheap cars, like a Peugeot hatchback, with an astronomical price of $85,000 U.S. In a country where a good state job pays $20 a month, a new car would not be a realistic goal within 100 lifetimes of saving for most Cubans.” Havana is a car-centric city, but not in the way an American might think. It’s all about the vintage cars, keeping them looking new, shiny, and functioning, in any way possible. But there are no car dealerships, no auto parts stores, no 10Minute Prompto oil change shops, no auto detailing shops, and actually very few shops of any kind. There are not even many parking lots. And car washes? What’s a car wash? Once-upon-a-time there were brand new parking meters on Havana’s streets, installed by Batista just before La Revolución. I read that Fidel had them removed pronto in 1959. He considered them to be odious devices of capitalist corruption. (Plus, they probably had some coins in them that he needed to confiscate.) Down with Yankee parking meters. Literally. Viva la Revolución.
It was surprising how few gas stations I saw. Maybe two, both open 24 hours, and both state-owned. (Is there any other kind?) Many of the autos have been converted to diesel-burning engines since diesel is cheaper than gasoline in Cuba. I assume the gas stations’ round-the-clock hours are to accommodate taxi drivers taking tourists to the famous nightclubs (which are still going strong as part of the tourism trade) or for moonlit rides along the malecon. The biggest parking lot I saw was at the airport, and if I remember correctly, it was only about four or five rows deep. So, I Have to Come Here, Even if I Don’t Want To? Funny, but when I saw the Plaza de La Revolución, my first thought was that it was a huge central parking lot. But there were no cars parked on it. There were only tour buses on the periphery, including ours as we climbed out to view this 72,000-squarefoot pad of concrete without a single blade of grass. It is among the ten largest plazas or squares in the world. Our guide told us that the Plaza is a mandatory stop on any guided tour of Havana. The government requires all tourists to see this plaza dedicated to La Revolución. That explained all the tour buses lined up around the border. It holds tens of thousands of people. It was not built under Fidel’s regime, but by his predecessor Batista. Fidel didn’t waste any time taking it over. He and his band of guerilla revolutionaries deposed Batista on New Year’s Day 1959. On January 6, the Epiphany, he gave his first speech to the First car I saw in Cuba, across from the airport exit. cheering crowds that filled the vast flat expanse of concrete in the middle of the city. Over the years, there were hundreds more speeches, hours-long speeches, and it is said that Fidel paid those who showed up and stayed until the end, since they weren’t going to cheer on their own any more. Government buildings were constructed on all four sides of the plaza, financed by the Soviets and designed in the soulless architectural style aptly called “brutalist.” Since January 6, 1959, the masses have gathered on the Plaza to hear about the glories of La Revolución. Author Carlos Eire described La Plaza de la Revolución this way: Batista had built it, but Fidel turned it into the navel of his universe, the place from which he would fill Cuba with empty words that far outnumber all the black holes in the universe. Same Dog, Different Collar. After Fidel, it was Raul who extolled the virtues of La Revolución from La Plaza, and now it will be new President Miguel DíazCanel. He assumed office the day we arrived in Havana, April 19, 2018. (This was also the 57th anniversary of the failed attempt to overturn Fidel’s government, the Bay of Pigs invasion by Cuban nationals, supported by the U.S. CIA.) We were looking for signs of excitement that day, maybe a parade or at least some banners or posters to mark the occasion. When we asked our tour guide, he replied cynically, “Es el mismo perro con diferente colar.” It’s the same dog with a different collar. I guess the Cuban people were not required to celebrate, and wouldn’t be paid to celebrate, so they didn’t.
Díaz-Canel was elected by a vote of 603-1 of the National Assembly as the unopposed candidate to replace Raul Castro. (Who was that lone dissenter?) Raul remains head of the Cuban Communist Party, but it will be Miguel who stands before the people, giving speeches in the parking lot. Excuse me, the Plaza. I could have lived without this stop on our tour. It made me uncomfortable thinking about the lies and the oppression that had filled it for 60 years. It was almost palpable. I had no desire to photograph it. Maybe if I had, the image of Fidel’s ghost would have shown up. It’s lurking there. Luckily, our tour guide — a nonbeliever — made it a very perfunctory stop on the tour. Metal relief sculptures of Che Guevara (L) and Camilo Cienfuegos (R) on the sides of government buildings in La Plaza de la Revolución (picture from Google images)
Well, Can I at Least Get a Bike? I asked our tour guide why we saw so few bicycles. If cars are unaffordable, it seemed logical that people would use bikes. I might have seen two or three bikes all week — and we were all over the city from the most expensive to the poorest parts. He said it’s because bikes must be imported, and they are far too expensive for most people. So Viva La Revolución that makes even a bicycle unattainable for the average Cuban. I didn’t even bother to ask about mopeds. A word about our tour guide, who was so much more than a tour guide, really a teacher and a storyteller and even an entertainer. He told us he was as old as the La Revolución, born in 1960. He was charming, funny, a polyglot, but what I most appreciated was his willingness to share his honest opinions and perspectives with us. Once the door of our tour bus closed, we had privacy. There were just eight American travelers, a driver whose English was very limited, and our guide. He could have just spouted the Cuban Communist party line, and no doubt he was trained to do just that. If he had, we would have left Havana with many unanswered questions and superficial impressions of life in Cuba. I am so grateful that he didn’t do that and instead we learned the truth about Cuba’s government and saw some authentic Cuban life. He seemed to have the perfect story or joke to illustrate anything that our American minds couldn’t quite grasp. A case in point: With the classic cars everywhere, and tour buses and coco cabs, we knew how the tourists got around. But what about Havana residents? How do they get around when they can’t afford cars or even bicycles? There is no subway, and very few buses. He replied by telling us about his wife’s morning. She’s a history professor at the University of Havana, and had to give a lecture off-campus at 9:00 a.m., somewhere else in the city, too far to walk, but still within the
city limits. He asked us, “Guess what time she left the house to get a bus?” How did we know? No one even ventured a guess. He said she got to bus stop by 6:30 a.m. to make sure she wouldn’t be late for her 9:00 a.m. lecture, although it was only a 20 minute ride. This major inconvenience is because Havana’s public transportation system does not have enough buses, and they don’t run on a regular schedule. People wait, the bus comes, it fill ups and takes off. If you don’t get on, you just keep moving up in line until the next one comes, or the next one, or the next one. Viva La Revolución.
Kennedy, Khrushchev, Castro, Cuba and Communism I was no student of Cuban history or economics before visiting Cuba, just a former journalist who had a chance to spend a week in Havana and who had a lot of curiosity. Cuba has always held a fascination for me. It dominated the political conversation when I first became aware of political conversation. In the early ‘60s, it seemed all the adults and the TV newscasters talked about nothing but Kennedy, Khrushchev, Castro, Cuba and Communism. The classic cars captured my attention in Havana like nothing else. I marveled at what they had seen, how long they’d been there. After all, they were there when Hemingway was there, and Ingrid Bergman, Frank Sinatra, Ava Gardner. They were part of the scene when Mayer Lansky and the gamblers and gangsters and money launderers got away with anything at all in Havana. They were there when licentiousness reigned and Batista was president and legitimate business thrived alongside corruption. And 60 years later, 60,000 of them are still there. Now, that is revolutionary. Decades of Fidel’s oppression turned a once prosperous island nation into a seemingly third world nation. But when the government owned everything else, it never owned these American cars. They’ve defied time and Communism. I like to think they’ve been staging their own automotive counter-revolution right under the noses of the Cuban Communists. June 13, 2018