35 photos that show what life looked like in 1973

A senior portrait so perfectly 1973 it could have been Michael Kelso's yearbook photo — the side-swept hair, the wide lapels, the expression of a guy who knows exactly how good-looking he is.

She's riding on the roof of a VW Bug, one orange balloon, a bandana in her hair, and nowhere to be until Summer Jam starts. The driver is in no hurry either. Nobody was.

Four friends, four motorcycles, and a parking lot that doubles as the whole world. The straw purse on the right is doing a lot of work.

Everything about this 7-Eleven is aggressively orange, including the cashier's shirt. The candy rack is stocked, the fluorescent lights are humming, and nobody is staring at a phone.

A father running alongside his son in Central Park, one hand gripping his arm so he doesn't go down. This particular moment has no year — it just keeps happening, forever.

She's beaming, he's already thinking about the drive. A peace sign pendant, a veil, a "Just Married" banner on the hood, and fifty-two years later, they're still in the car together.

She coordinated her outfit to her car, head to toe in pink, and somehow it's the Volvo that looks underdressed.

A Harley and a summer afternoon somewhere in small-town America — the older guys doing the talking, the kid in the Red Sox shirt doing the listening. The black car parked in the weeds behind them wasn't going anywhere fast either.

The recycling symbol is so universal now that it feels like it was always just there, the way an arrow or a stop sign feels inevitable. But someone actually sat down and drew it for the first time, and this is that guy.

An electric car charging on a Seattle street in 1973, twenty-five cents an hour, wires running across the sidewalk like nobody had quite figured out the infrastructure yet. They hadn't. It would take another fifty years.

Four hikers are posing on the snowpack of Mt. St. Helens, the whole Pacific Northwest spread out behind them, smiling like they're standing on solid ground. Seven years later, the mountain they're standing on would be gone.

Johnny Cash played Sesame Street in 1973, standing in the alley next to Oscar the Grouch like it was the most natural thing in the world. For one brief moment, the Man in Black and a trash can monster made perfect sense together.

An LA cap, round glasses, and a cardboard sign he lettered himself. The lemonade stand has been open for business for approximately twenty minutes, and he's already fully committed to the enterprise.

Five kids in a Detroit alley with a shopping cart and nowhere they need to be. The two on the right are already hugging like they haven't seen each other in years, even though they were probably together ten minutes ago.

A nine-year-old Chris Farley with a bowl cut and a grin that already has too much going on behind it. The funniest kid in whatever room he walked into, and he knew it.

Barefoot on the shoulder of an Oklahoma road, arm outstretched, flowers wrapped in green cellophane. The cars keep passing. She keeps waiting. It's summer, and there's no hurry.

Goldie Hawn, in a sequined outfit, spins a basketball on one finger while the Harlem Globetrotters watch with the particular patience of people who have seen everything. She's pulling it off.

An Army A/V technician surrounded by enough dials, reels, and monitors to run a small television network, holding a clipboard and smiling like it's all completely under control. Because it was.

She's mid-dismount at a full gallop, hair flying, completely locked in. Whatever the horse had to say about it, she wasn't listening.

Long hair, big glasses, a custom-painted chopper, and one more day before the rest of his life starts. He looks like he knows exactly how good this moment is.

Patterned jacket, bow tie, diploma in hand, the whole Grand Concourse behind him. He dressed for the occasion, and the occasion knew it.

Sitting in a field at Watkins Glen with a broken arm and absolutely no interest in going home. The sling is white, the top is black, and the Allman Brothers are somewhere up ahead.

White suit, black velvet lapels, ruffled shirt, two-tone shoes, red carnation, and a foot of snow on the ground. December 29th, 1973. He was not going to underdress for this.

A baby loose in the footwell of a sports car, surrounded by toys. No car seat, no seatbelt, no problem. 1973 had a very different relationship with consequences.

Two friends in a park with matching pink frisbees, laughing at something the camera didn't catch. Summer had very few requirements in 1973, and they were meeting all of them.

A teenager behind the counter of a small shop, striped sweater, a Coca-Cola sitting on the counter beside her, bulk candy dispensers behind her, and a red scale at her elbow. This was a Saturday job before Saturday jobs got complicated.

The lobby of a bank that went all-in on the decade. Orange chairs, chevron mural, checked carpet, and somewhere in there a few people waiting to deposit a check. No building has ever looked more like 1973.

Twenty-something kids in their picture-day best, every single one of them dressed like a tiny adult from a very good decade. The plaid alone could wallpaper a house.

A line of teenagers in an open California field, bows drawn, hills rolling out behind them. Summer camp, before summer camps got liability waivers.

Four friends and a Land Rover loaded up for a snow trip in the California mountains. They came for this exact scene, and it delivered.

A couple settled in at their basement bar on a quiet evening, a little dog, a round of drinks, and a British soldier figurine keeping watch on the shelf. This was the whole night, and it was enough.

Before digital price tags and printed signage, someone had to letter every sale by hand. Three tomatoes for 29 cents, painted right there in the aisle while the store stayed open around her.

Two boys in Warren, Ohio getting their photo with Ronald McDonald at a grand opening in October 1973, both of them wearing balloon hats and fully committed to the occasion.

A 7-Up sales director in a tan suit and bow tie, standing at a Burger King counter like he owns the place. The menu behind him says coffee is 15 cents. Everyone here means business.

Kids hanging on the stoop outside Rose's Candy Store in East Harlem. Candy, cigars, stationery, and a place to hang.