George Tate’s photographs of 1960s car washes capture a point in American history that was so bright you had to wear shades. Gleaming spires reach for the sky and its infinite possibilities. Motorcars bask in the sun like retired spaceships and dream of accelerating into the stratosphere.

This is the happy place where once families watched The Jetsons in small suburban ranch homes warmed by the glow of the cathode ray and steaming TV dinners. Everything seemed lit from within…like an A-bomb.