It sounds like a fever dream. A man buys a 1928 Porter touring car, only to discover that the vehicle is actually the reincarnated soul of his deceased mother, who talks to him through the radio. This isn’t a weird indie horror flick or a high-concept Netflix pilot from 2026. This was My Mother My Car, a real NBC sitcom that aired in 1965. Most people today look back at it as the absolute "jump the shark" moment for 1960s television, even though it happened right at the start of the decade's obsession with high-concept supernatural comedies.
Television in the mid-sixties was weird. Really weird. You had a talking horse on Mr. Ed, a beautiful witch on Bewitched, and a literal Martian living with a reporter. But My Mother My Car took the "high-concept" gimmick to a place that many viewers—and critics—simply couldn't follow. Jerry Van Dyke, brother of the legendary Dick Van Dyke, played Dave Crabtree. He turned down the lead role in Gilligan’s Island to do this show. Let that sink in for a second. He chose a talking car over a career-defining role on a deserted island.
The Wild Premise Behind My Mother My Car
The show was created by Allan Burns and Chris Hayward. If those names sound familiar, it's because they weren't hacks. They were the same minds who gave us The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show and later worked on The Mary Tyler Moore Show. They knew how to write. But with My Mother My Car, the logic was... well, it was something else.
Dave Crabtree goes to a used car lot to buy a station wagon for his family. Instead, he’s drawn to this vintage 1928 Porter. When he gets behind the wheel, the car starts talking. But it’s not just any voice; it’s his mother, Gladys. The legendary Ann Sothern provided the voice for the car. Only Dave can hear her. To everyone else, he just looks like a guy who is way too attached to a piece of junk.
✨ Don't miss: Fast N Loud: What Really Happened to Gas Monkey Garage
There's a specific kind of 1960s absurdity here. The show didn't lean into the "haunting" aspect. It treated it like a domestic comedy. Gladys was a typical overbearing mother, she just happened to have four wheels and a carburetor. She'd nag Dave about his career, his parenting, and how he treated his wife, Barbara. It was a Freudian nightmare disguised as a family-friendly half-hour block.
Why the 1928 Porter Wasn't Real
Here is a bit of trivia that car enthusiasts usually catch: the "1928 Porter" never actually existed. The car used in My Mother My Car was a custom build. The production team cobbled it together using parts from a variety of vehicles.
- The body was mostly a modified 1927 T-Bucket.
- The engine was a Chevy Powerglide.
- Parts from Maxwells and Dodges were tossed in to give it that "vintage" look.
In reality, the Porter was a fictional brand invented for the show. This actually caused a bit of confusion back in the day, as some viewers genuinely thought they were looking at a rare classic. Today, that original "Mother" car is a prized piece of television history. It was restored by car customizer Dave Gish and has appeared at various auto shows.
It's actually a beautiful piece of machinery, despite the show's reputation. The brass fittings and the deep red paint job made it look far more dignified than the scripts usually allowed it to be.
The Critics vs. The Reality of 1965 TV
If you look at "Worst TV Shows of All Time" lists from TV Guide or Rolling Stone, My Mother My Car is almost always in the top five. Critics hated it. They thought it was the pinnacle of creative bankruptcy. But honestly? If you watch it now, it’s not significantly worse than some of its contemporaries.
📖 Related: Vera Wong's Guide to Snooping: Why This Meddling Auntie is 2026's Best Detective
The humor was dry. Jerry Van Dyke was actually a very capable lead. He played the "straight man" to a car with incredible timing. The problem wasn't necessarily the acting or the writing; it was the timing of the release. The 1965-1966 season was saturated with gimmicks. By the time Dave Crabtree was arguing with his radiator, the audience was starting to crave something a bit more grounded.
Interestingly, the show struggled with its identity. Was it a fantasy? Was it a satire? It tried to be both. One week, Dave is hiding the car from a fanatical collector (played by Avery Schreiber), and the next, he's dealing with the car's jealousy of his wife. It was a weird domestic triangle.
The Cancellation and Legacy
NBC pulled the plug after 30 episodes. One season. That was it. Jerry Van Dyke later admitted in interviews that the show's failure was a massive blow to his career. He spent years being "the guy from the car show." It wasn't until Coach in the late 80s that he finally stepped out of that shadow.
But the show stayed in the public consciousness. It became a shorthand for "bad television." If a network executive proposed a dumb idea in the 70s or 80s, someone would inevitably say, "What is this, My Mother My Car?"
Yet, there is a cult following. Collectors of "obscure media" trade bootleg DVDs of the series because, for decades, it wasn't available on any streaming service. There's a charm to the low-budget practical effects. When the car "winks" its headlights or the steering wheel moves on its own, you're seeing the work of on-set technicians, not CGI. There’s a soul in that car, literally and figuratively.
What Modern Viewers Get Wrong
People think the show was just about a talking car. It was actually about grief and transition, albeit in the most ridiculous way possible. Dave Crabtree wasn't ready to let go of his mother. The car served as a weird, metallic security blanket.
- It explored the "Man vs. Machine" trope before it was cool.
- The dialogue actually had some sharp, vaudevillian wit.
- It featured incredible guest stars like James Hampton and Jack Gilford.
Was it a masterpiece? No. But it wasn't the unwatchable trash that historians claim it to be. It was an ambitious failure. In a world of "safe" television, there's something respectable about a show that commits that hard to such a bizarre premise.
👉 See also: A Minecraft Movie: What Really Happened with the Blocky Blockbuster
Lessons from the Porter
There are a few things we can actually learn from the history of this show. First, never turn down a job on a tropical island for a talking car. Second, high-concept ideas require a lot of heart to stay afloat.
If you're a fan of classic TV, you owe it to yourself to find an episode. It’s a time capsule of an era where networks were willing to throw anything at the wall to see what stuck. Sometimes you get The Munsters. Sometimes you get a 1928 Porter that sounds like your mom.
Finding the Show Today
Tracking down My Mother My Car isn't as hard as it used to be. You can often find episodes uploaded to archive sites or specialized classic TV streaming apps.
- Check the Internet Archive for public domain episodes.
- Look for the "The Best of 60s Sitcoms" DVD collections.
- Search YouTube for the pilot episode, "The Man Who Could Talk to Cars."
The show serves as a reminder that "good" and "memorable" aren't always the same thing. Everyone remembers the talking car. Nobody remembers the generic procedurals that aired at the same time. There's value in being the weirdest thing on the air.
If you're looking to dive deeper into 1960s television history, start by researching the "Great Rural Purge" of the early 70s, which is when networks finally killed off shows like this in favor of more sophisticated content like MASH*. You'll see exactly where My Mother My Car fits into the timeline of American culture—a weird, loud, sputtering transition between the Vaudeville era and the modern sitcom.
Go watch the pilot. See the "wink" for yourself. It’s bizarre, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s a fascinating piece of the puzzle that is Hollywood history.
Actionable Insights for TV Historians and Fans:
- Verify the Parts: If you see a "1928 Porter" at a car show, check the engine block. Real ones don't exist, so you're likely looking at one of the few surviving stunt cars or a very dedicated replica.
- Analyze the Creators: Look into the work of Allan Burns post-1965. Seeing how he went from a talking car to The Mary Tyler Moore Show provides a masterclass in how creators pivot after a high-profile "failure."
- Compare the Trope: Watch an episode of My Mother My Car alongside Knight Rider. Notice how the "talking car" evolved from a nagging parental figure to a high-tech partner. It’s the same gimmick with a different coat of paint.