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A Brief Chronology of Dad’s Cool Cars
Growing up, I was blessed to have a father with good taste in cars—and a job that provided them. Naturally, I have some thoughts on the rides of my boyhood …
The Buicks
I spent my early childhood riding in Buicks: a 1947, then a ‘49, then a ‘51, each cleverly bought at one year old, after its first-year depreciation. As a little kid, I don’t recall much about the first two but fondly remember the ’51 as a very nice, dark blue, four-port Roadmaster sedan. It flaunted a huge vertical-tooth grille, a cool bombsight hood ornament and (soon-to-be-trademark) chrome “sweepspears” arching downward from the front fender to the rear wheel opening.
We took long cross-country vacation trips from our suburban Cleveland home to Grand Island, Nebraska, to visit my dad’s parents and brother, then on to the tiny town of Hugo, Colorado, to see my mom’s folks, then to far-west California for other family visits. We also drove due south to Florida for spring vacations. My handy father built a removable, padded platform that stretched across the rear floor at seat level so my younger brother and I could stretch out and sleep side-by-side when we weren’t fighting or reading progressive Burma-Shave signs. We were not allowed on the rear package shelf since any impact, or even hard braking, would propel our little bodies fast-forward into the front. Dad did all the driving because my mom had poor eyesight and drove only short distances on neighborhood streets, but at times on low-traffic roads, he would let me sit on his lap and steer … a serious thrill for a car-nut kid!
The Buick was powered by a straight-eight engine that once overheated on a lightly traveled desert highway. We stopped and waited—in the middle of boiling-hot nowhere with no access to water or a phone within miles—to let it cool, which eventually it did and was miraculously okay. I also remember him buying a cardboard box that mounted in the driver’s window to serve as makeshift air conditioning. Filled with dry ice (available at 1950s desert service stations), it slightly cooled the air flowing into it through a hole in its front over the dry ice and out a side slot into the car. With all the other windows closed, it provided a little comfort but had to be regularly refilled.
My folks drove the Buick each January to Dad’s annual business convention in West Virginia, and my mom related one year how they had been sailing way too fast down a curvy mountain road. Seriously frightened, she had begged my dad to please slow down. But he had just kept driving, barely making one curve after another, and saying nothing. Luckily, he was a skilled driver who had done some dirt-track racing in his youth, and after they had finally made it to level road, he told her that the brakes had failed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she had breathlessly asked him. “I didn’t want to scare you,” he’d said.
I loved that car.
The Cadillacs
The brake issue may have led Dad to upgrade to a one-year-old 1954 Cadillac Series 62 sedan for his next car. Medium blue with a white top, it was a nice car with then-fashionable—but not yet outrageous—fins, with the gas filler cleverly hidden under the left one. It had a wraparound windshield, dual exhausts in its back bumpers, vertical chrome “vents” on its rear doors and bulbous front bumper guards … nicknamed “Dagmars” for a reason I would later understand. It served well as his daily driver and our family road tripper, until a job promotion earned him a company car.
That’s when we got our first new car, an all-white, tall-finned 1958 Cadillac sedan. This would turn out to be the last year before the famously outrageous ’59s literally raised the bar on rocket-ship fins, and I recall it as impressive but overdecorated. Its grille was an array of chrome buttons. Chrome side strips stretched from newly fashionable quad round headlamps to mid-front doors. Separate strips ran along lower body protrusions from rear doors to taillamps, and more gratuitous brightwork was seemingly slathered on everywhere.
As a socially conscious kid, I was uncomfortable being seen in that Cadillac; we were far from wealthy, and I didn’t want to be perceived and judged as a “rich kid.” I walked or rode a bike to school, but the couple of times when Dad drove me there, I asked him to let me out a block away so I wouldn’t be seen getting out of that new Caddy. He didn’t quite get that but agreed. And I remember it went through a couple of automatic transmissions (under warranty) before one finally held together.
The Thunderbird
For his next new company car, Dad chose a powder-blue 1960 Ford Thunderbird coupe. The third year of the four-seat ’Bird, it looked like the ’58 and ’59 with canted tailfins and a hot-looking hood scoop, but better (in my mid-teen, car-nut opinion) thanks to chrome bars on its grille and triple taillamps per side versus the previous four-lamp rear.
I turned 16 when he had that car so got some dad-driving lessons in it, and since he very wisely ordered it with then-optional front seatbelts, he badgered me into the habit of always buckling up, whether driving or riding … a habit that years later would very likely save my life. As a fast and skilled but safety-conscious driver, he had always shot his long right arm out in front of my mom or us kids whenever he’d had to brake hard to prevent us from being pitched forward into the dash. Now we had belts in his T-Bird to do a much better job of holding us in place.
The Bonneville
I fell in love with the crisp new look of the 1961 Pontiacs so recommended that, when it came time for Dad to turn in the T-Bird, his next new company car should be a Pontiac. And he pretended to listen. But would he downgrade in status from a “personal luxury/sport coupe” Thunderbird to a semi-sporty Pontiac sedan? I was driving my own super-cool car by then so didn’t much care what his next daily driver would be. Then I came home one day to find a gleaming gold Bonneville in our drive. It was a 1962, not a cleaner, prettier ’61, but pretty cool nonetheless.
It had a nice interior with fake wood trim, carpet on the lower doors, and a grab bar (for my nervous mom) on the passenger side. In addition to a fairly strong V-8 and Hydramatic transmission, it had all the important options—power steering, brakes, windows and seats, cruise control, air conditioning, and finned aluminum wheels. Maybe he did listen to my recommendation, as influenced by positive magazine reviews and my personal taste. I proudly saw it as a car-nut-son-to-father communication breakthrough. Then I was off to college.
Mom’s Cars
My poor-sighted, seldom-driving mom—after several years with her first car, a very uncool ’51 Chevy coupe—had just one cool car, a sexy ’57 Ford convertible, which I regularly stole and joy rode virtually every Friday night at the age of 15, before I was old enough for a license. I never knew why my dad bought her that car, unless maybe it was his “second-childhood” choice. After that came a plain-Jane compact Mercury Comet, then a Ford Torino she rarely drove and reluctantly sold after 18 years with very few miles on the clock, once she was too old to drive.
Yes, I was truly fortunate to have a farmer’s-son father who liked cars almost as much as I loved them and who was successful enough at his job that he earned company cars for himself so he could afford a Ford convertible for my mom when I was in my teens and cool sports cars for me once I was legal to drive. I had high-school classmates whose families had real money, but none of them got to grow up riding in and driving such cool cars. And with the expense of having me in college, my younger brother—a skilled skier and volleyball player but no car enthusiast—got a used Rambler when he turned 16, because that was what Dad could afford at the time.
My dad almost had cool cars.
His first was a new 55 Crown Vic but in Black and Pink?
A 57 Fairlane black and white.
Then the 60 Ventura. that one was cool.
Then from 63-78 We had a new car every year. My great uncle would buy two new cars and give us a his Chevy a year after he bought it. He was a lead engineer at GM.
What was cool was he bought most options but all were in 4 door hard tops and the one option he would skip was he would only get an AM radio.
We have Corvair’s up till 66 and then Chevelle’s till 73 and then Buick’s till 78.
The really cool part was the 1968 Chevelle was from the same dealer that my 68 SS was from and was sold just a couple days after mine. It is likely they may have arrived on the same truck and I was at the dealer when it was there as a kid.
Dad liked some cool cars and because of he cars he never bought he would let me buy the cool ones I did have.
Now he did have a couple cars in Germany in the 50’s when he lived there. One was a really cool Benz. He regretted not bringing it home when he moved back.
When my father returned from Germany, cars were scarce. He wound up with a Model A Ford. He told me that the front axle had been broken and sloppily welded back together. He had to keep a fair amount of pressure to the right on the steering wheel to keep it going straight. He told me that there were sections on the roads across the Smokies that he had to take in reverse because the gas tank would be below the carb if he tried to go forward (it had no fuel pump).
He mentioned once having a Studebaker next, but I remember no details.
The first car I remember us having was a 1950 Ford Custom sedan. Sort of a medium green color. My brother was born later that year and my sister the next.
In 1958, Papa bought another Ford sedan. By that time, he had four kids, so things were pretty tight in it.
That car started spending a lot of time in the shop, so, in 1963, Papa bought a Fairlane 500 Ranch Wagon with the third seat. We all liked that car.
In ’72, I moved away and sort of lost track of things, but I do remember his owning at least one Mercury Marquis after that. I bought his Fairlane in ’73 and kept it for a year or two.
My dad had a 71-73 Mustang, don’t remember that exact year as I was in diapers at the time. That was a cool car to a little kid like me as was the Forth Gen Pontiac Grand Prix my dad had. As a kid these were cool cars. The Toyota minivan that replaced the Nissan Sentra that replaced the Grand Prix was cool because it was RWD and mid engined. It was dog slow but the sunroof was gigantic.
My rant on 51 Chevrolet Coupe’s. Pick only one please. Styleline Special Bus Cpe, Spt Cpe. Styleline DeLuxe Spt Cpe, Bel Air, or the 2 Fleetline’s. Lets not forget the 2DR sedans. OK i like em.
Since I’m a “Dad”, and grew up in NYC, we never owned a car…As my dad said..why buy a car, when we have buses and trains to take us anywhere we want for 15 cents (price of a token)…
So, the first thing I did when I came back from 19 months as a Combat Photographer for the 4th Infantry Division, in VietNam in 1968-70, was to buy a car…
Haven’t stopped since…
Bear with me..
’59 AH sprite, 49 Ford Tudor, 53 Studebaker President Coupe,57 Ford Fairlane 500 convertible,57 Chevy 2 dr. coupe,61 Impala SS,56 Ford pickup, 54 Ford Customline 2 dr. (8 cars) Never more than one at a time.
It’s now 1976 and the next batch started: 69 MB 220 sedan, 69 Volvo 164, 72 BMW Bavaria, 64 Triumph TR4, 57 Chevy 2 dr sedan, 63 Impala wagon. (6 cars, never more than one at a time)
First kid shows up in 1980, and second in ’82: 63 Buick Special Wagon, 67 Chrysler 300 coupe, 59 Pontiac Catalina coupe, 58 Nomad wagon, 64 Chevelle Coupe, 64 Pontiac Catalina 2+2, 87 Grand National (only new car I ever bought, for my wife), 87 Monte Carlo SS, 69 Camaro L78 convertible, 86 Fiero 2M4,
2000…the kids have left home and the collecting begins…Usually 3+ at the same time…..
81 Trans Am, 65 Comet Caliente , 77 Pontiac CanAm , 88 Mustang LX convertible, 98 Mercury Cougar, 99 Jaguar XK8 convertible, 63 Buick Special convertible (4 spd), 86 Riviera, 69 Pontiac Catalina coupe, 65 Olds Dynamic 88, 86 Grand National, 97 Grand Prix, 66 Buick Riviera GS, 69 Chevelle L72, 86 Corvette coupe, 99 Jaguar XJ6, 72 MGB roadster, 97 BMW 318ti, 65 Shelby Cobra 427, 81 Porsche 928, 96 Jaguar XJ12 sedan.
That brings us to present day…I still have the Cobra, the XJ12, the XK8 and the Porsche 928.
All the others were bought, registered, insured, worked on, and driven…EVERY ONE.
The DMV in Harrisburg once tried to get me to register as a car dealer, after auditing my vehicle registration records. Don’t know why, they made a pantload of money from me.
I still have expired registrations, insurance cards, and family photos of every one of the cars mentioned.(except the 59 Sprite, and the 72 Bavaria)
Now, at 77…most of my auto wishes have been fulfilled….and my 40 year old son is following in my footsteps…He has a 64 Catalina 421 2+2, and an 06 GTO.
None of it possible without my understanding bride of 54 years..
Wow, 77 Pontiac Can Am. Hardly anyone knows what that is. And, you had both a 1987 Grand National and a 1987 Monte Carlo SS, both really cool rides.
My father never had any cool cars when I was growing up tat I can remember. Those were earlier when I was just a glint in his eye. I distinctly remember him saying when I was maybe 15 or 16 -” That car was a real sex wagon. Your mother would sit right next to me…and I would shift”. – A somewhat but not too shocking comment at the time. So while he would often say a car was nothing but a way to get from point A to point B he came home more than once from taking a ride in my latest warmed over with a grin after claiming needing to- ‘ blow the carbon off those valves’.
I must add later my father did buy an Oldsmobile. I would crack this is my fathers Oldsmobile. It sadly was not one of their better efforts.
He did listen to me and bought a Buick Lesabre with the Grand Spot package. It was everything he would want and he loved that car.
My dad was a GM guy. Starts with 61 corvette,which he sold in 63, shortly after I was born (I was kid #5). Other cars were a 68 Firebird, 68 Chevelle Malibu convertible, which I have now (54 years in the family and counting), 66 Bonneville , 70 Pontiac T-37, a string of Pontiac Lemans’s from72 through 75 that were year old hand me down company cars. The last sports cars were a 79 and 82 Firebirds before he retired and went the mini van route
My Dad had one cool car (maybe other people would disagree) 65 Marlin red with black stripe 327 auto I was 12 when he bought it 2 years old. When I was born he was driving Hillmans so that was a big step up!!!