esrosedotblog

MY FATHER'S OLDSMOBILE

Yesterday, Franklin and I were walking along and WHAM! There, in the Stein Mart parking lot was a fully restored 1939 Oldsmobile; two tone!

My Dad's car!

We went over the wall and took a look.

Man, it was totally restored. Everything.

There are times when some iconic template hits the brain and there is a warp of immense proportions.

This car did it.

My Dad got it used, but not too used, and we drove it all through the war and up to about 1947 or 8.

This was way past my Dad's tolerance for car age.

He went out and bought the cheapest fucking Ford he could find. Black. What a comedown.

I have never gotten over it.

His next car was Uncle Pete's Hydromatic Dodge (my first Chrysler product) and then he went home. He got a big Oldsmobile that had to be the best car he ever had.

When that rusted out, he went to a Chevy. I think his first new car.

He turned them in every three or four years after that. He was car-rich in the same way that some people are property-rich.

He would tell us that 'this is my last car' and then, three years later, he would have another new one.

He wanted an American car; always.

It near killed him when he found out that GM was using parts made outside the country.

Near the end, he found out that a Chevy factory in Baltimore used more USA parts than any other. He insisted the car come from there.

I doubt this was true. A salesman told him about it. But there it is.

He bought me a Ford for my first car, 1954; the 50th Anniversary model. It was 1958. It was a great car though.

Then we got a Chevy station wagon. The Ford was the second car.

I traded it in for a brand new Volkswagen. It was a wreck. When I shut the door at the dealership, the drivers window broke down inside the door panel.

I never bought an American car again until we came out here.

John and I had graduated to SAAB convertibles and there was no dealer out here. We sold the best car we ever had—a 1995 SAAB—and bought a Jeep Cherokee to drive cross country. We thought we were going to ride around on dirt roads in the desert.

Well, we did once.

It has been a great vehicle. It is still 'my car'.

After that we went Chrysler all the way.

The 1984 LeBaron; Woodie.

The new Sebring Convertible—well three years old.

We are with Chrysler for the service which is really good in the local dealership. Not something that people think of when they buy a car especially with the very long guarantee periods they have now.

How did I get started on this?

A man is the car he drives. Isn't it? Or, isn't he?

I do not plan to buy another car. Ever.

These are my last ones.