Obviously the in-dash record player never caught on. It seems like a colossally bad idea that defies simple physics. Drivers probably couldn’t countenance the skipping and scratched records produced by swift turns and potholes. But imagine having a 1960 Plymouth with one of these things, going to Rooky’s Records in the Lower Haight, where you could load up on cheap soul and jazz 45s from the 60s and 70s, and listening to these scratchy records in your car as you drive the streets of San Francisco to the Pacific Coast Highway to wherever the car and music take you. Think about it.
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