You've probably seen that grainly, black-and-white video on social media. A huge, gleaming car from the 1930s nose-dives into a tiny parallel parking spot, and then—like a magic trick—the back end just swings sideways, perfectly tucking against the curb. It looks fake. Like some early Hollywood special effect or a "back to the future" prank.
Honestly, it isn't.
The packard self parking car was a real, working prototype that predates modern Tesla Autopark or Ford Active Park Assist by nearly a century. We like to think of our era as the pinnacle of "smart" tech, but a California lumberman named Brooks Walker was solving the parallel parking headache while the Great Depression was still in full swing.
The Inventor Who Refused to Quit
Brooks Walker wasn't an automotive engineer by trade, which maybe explains why his idea was so wild. He was a guy who owned a lumber company but had a brain that wouldn't stop tinkering. In 1932, he filed a patent for what he officially called a "vehicle lifting and traversing device."
💡 You might also like: How to Add Email on iPhone: What Most People Get Wrong
Most of us just call it the fifth wheel.
Walker took a 1933 Packard and did the unthinkable: he cut into it. He installed a spare tire in the rear, but instead of it just sitting there for emergencies, this tire was mounted perpendicularly to the other four wheels. Basically, it sat sideways.
How the Magic Actually Worked
The system was surprisingly mechanical and gritty. It wasn't some "press a button and the AI does the rest" situation.
- Hydraulics: When the driver flipped a switch on the dash, a series of hydraulic pumps and gears would lower that fifth wheel to the pavement.
- The Lift: The wheel would push down so hard that it actually lifted the rear two tires of the Packard off the ground.
- The Power: It pulled power directly from the car’s driveshaft. Once the back was airborne, the fifth wheel would spin, swinging the tail of the car in a perfect arc into the parking space.
It was fast. We're talking nine seconds to park a car that was roughly the size of a small yacht.
👉 See also: Why a Clear Apple Watch Strap is Still the Best Way to Show Off Your Tech
Why the 1953 Packard Cavalier Was the Last Straw
Walker didn't give up after the '33 prototype. He spent decades trying to get Detroit to listen. By the early 1950s, he had refined the system and slapped it onto a 1953 Packard Cavalier.
This version was "kinda" better. In the original 1930s setup, the mechanism took up every single square inch of the trunk. You couldn't even fit a briefcase in there, let alone groceries. For the '53 Cavalier, Walker got clever. He mounted the fifth wheel on a "continental kit"—that fancy external spare tire rack you see on old classics. This saved the trunk space, but it made the car even longer and, frankly, a bit weird-looking.
He even took his invention to the big dogs in Detroit. He showed it to Cadillac. He showed it to Ford. He even tried to sell it as an aftermarket kit that people could bolt onto their own cars for about $175.
In today's money? That's roughly $2,000.
The Real Reason It Failed
You'd think a tool that saves you from the embarrassment of curb-rashing your tires would be a hit. It wasn't. There are a few reasons why the packard self parking car died in the prototype phase, and it wasn't just because it looked funny.
- Complexity: Adding a fifth wheel meant adding hydraulic lines, extra gears, and heavy machinery. More parts meant more things to break.
- Weight Distribution: Lifting the back of a heavy luxury car puts a massive amount of stress on the frame. If you weren't on perfectly level ground, things got sketchy fast.
- The "Good Enough" Problem: Most people just... learned to park. Or they had chauffeurs who did it for them.
- Cost: Spending $175 on a parking gadget when a brand-new car didn't cost a whole lot more than a few thousand was a tough pill for consumers to swallow.
What We Can Learn From Walker’s Obsession
Walker kept working on this thing until he passed away in the 1980s. He even put a version on a Saab and an Oldsmobile station wagon. He was obsessed with the idea that the "four-wheel" layout of a car was fundamentally flawed for tight cities.
While the fifth wheel is now a museum curiosity—the 1953 prototype actually survived a fire in 2012 and was restored—the spirit of the invention is everywhere now. When your car uses ultrasonic sensors to steer into a spot today, it's doing exactly what Walker's greasy hydraulic gears were doing in 1933.
He was right about the problem; he was just 90 years too early for the solution.
Actionable Insights for Car History Enthusiasts
If you want to see the packard self parking car tech in person or dig deeper into this niche history, here is what you should do next:
- Visit the Museum: Check the schedule for the Nethercutt Collection in California. They have been known to house Walker’s modified vehicles. Seeing the size of the hydraulic pumps in person really puts the "bulk" of this invention into perspective.
- Search for Newsreels: Look for the 1933 and 1950s newsreel footage on archival sites like British Pathé. Pay attention to the "Park Car" branding Walker used.
- Study the Patents: If you’re a mechanical nerd, look up U.S. Patent 2,139,341. It’s the official filing for the "Vehicle Lifting and Traversing Device." It shows the intricate chain-drive system that modern articles usually skip over.
- Compare with the Prius: Look up the 2003 Toyota Prius "Intelligent Parking Assist." It was the first mass-produced car to finally fulfill Walker's dream, though it used software instead of a fifth wheel to get the job done.