My in-law's lake house sits in the eastern part of the state where the local news is fed from the Tulsa stations.
While enjoying some different faces reading the news teleprompter, M-i-L proclaimed without any veracity of a lick sarcasm, that "Tulsan's are a different breed of Oklahoman." Apparently, Tulsanite's have their own way of thinking and doing that leaves the population of the rest of the panhandled state scratching their heads and saying, "Oh, they're just from Tulsa, that's why..."
To put it in a perspective I could relate to, my agreeing wife cited the cataclysmic differences between the environs and peoples of NorCal and SoCal and I instantly got it.
My information on Tulsanite's unusual proclivities for their internals running on a difference engine is secondhand, however a recent discovery via my car club compadres might lend some credence to my M-i-L's proclamation.
Case in point, the 1957 Plymouth Belvedere Sports Coupe was a 17 1/2 foot long monster with a 118" wheelbase and a wingspan over 6 1/2 feet wide. Only a Tulsan would think to bury one of these jewels of Detroit modernism and invention in the ground. But that's exactly what they did, 50-years ago this summer.
The Event Chairman of the Tulsa event wherein the brand spankin' new Belvedere was buried beneath the front sidewalk of the Tulsa Count Courthouse in 1957, is quoted to have proclaimed the car to be a perfect vehicle to serve as the rolling time capsule since it was, "...an advanced product of American industrial ingenuity with the kind of lasting appeal that will still be in style 50 years from now."
Pretty bold statement. He must have been a car guy.
Check out the Tulsarama link, part of this states Centennial celebration.
Oh, and if you're curious as to what will become of the 50-year old rolling relic of a time capsule, it will be given to the person with the closest recorded guess of what the 2007 population of Tulsa would be. That's right, 50-years ago ordinary folk recorded their guesses of their fair cities babyboom growth, which were then buried along with the car. Come this summer when they remove the gassed up capsule and pull the guesses, some lucky prognosticater of Tulsa's population will be handed the keys to the Belvedere.
My guess is that the car and it's contents will be in much better condition than the Tulsan who made the winning guess. 50 years of chicken fried steak and prime Oklahoma beef will have taken it's toll, even on a tough-as-nails-Tulsan.
My opinion...Indiana Jones had it right, "it belongs in a museum."