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An Ode to Betsy, My 1954 Buick Special
Betsy is the 1954 Buick Special I have known all of my life.
Some of my earliest memories center around trips to my grandparent’s home for various holidays and vacations. It was a trip of about 150 miles, so the visits were infrequent enough to make each one special, and since they lived in a small town in northeast Nebraska, it was a big change from the usual goings-on in Omaha.
There were three big events associated with these trips. First, mere moments after arrival and the obligatory hugs and “My look how big you boys have grown” were over, the three of us (cousins, too sometimes) would race up the street to the farm store and crawl all over the tractors, combines, wagons, or whatever else happened to be in the yard. That the owner never came out to shoo us off says something about small town USA back then. The second highlight was the passing of a freight train, the tracks being directly across the street from the big white house where my grandparents lived. Whomever heard the whistle first called out “Train!” and off we went. Unbelievably, we were even allowed to leave the dining room table for this adventure. Waving to the engineer, counting cars, and setting pennies on the rail to be mashed were all part and parcel. The big event for any visit, however, was a ride in Grandpa’s Buick.
Betsy was a Model 41D sedan that lived in a tiny one-car garage out by the alley. It was a big production to roll her out to the driveway so bunches of grandkids could pile in the back seat for a cruise around town. Of course, there were no seat belts, but we were unconcerned because we had the blanket rope to hang on to! It was always a magical journey, even if it only lasted a few blocks.
In the late 1970s, my grandfather passed away, and Betsy languished in her garage for a couple of years. Grandma was reluctant to drive her, and that was probably a good idea. Knowing the popularity of the car and wanting to avoid bad feelings amongst the grandkids when the estate was settled, she sent a letter to all 18 of us offering to sell Grandpa’s Buick to the highest bidder. Imagine my surprise to find out that my bid of $1101 was the winner. The odometer was still in the low 20s at that time.
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The Buick was my daily driver for the next 12 years or so, and she accompanied me to several Air Force assignments, criss-crossing the country and delivering me faithfully (usually) to work and back. She was famous in at least three fighter squadrons. After the first flights of the day, the announcement would go out over the PA that the Boat was leaving for the Officer’s Club in five minutes. Fellow pilots would pile in and off we’d go, gliding across the base to the club. (I think the record for a lunch run was 11—five in front and six in back!)
Separation from the Air Force found us in Las Vegas and starting an airline gig. Betsy became my airport car and spent a lot of time in the parking lot.
When I got the crazy idea that I needed a sports car to drive to work, the Buick began another multi-year stint of inactivity. I’d start her up occasionally and take an infrequent lap around the block, but that was it. I knew in the back of my mind that at some point I’d have to decide what was to become of Betsy. As a family heirloom, I couldn’t sell her, so some degree of restoration was always just around the corner. Unfortunately, I was paralyzed by my inability to decide between a full frame-off or a simple repaint, and mysteriously, several years elapsed around this conundrum.
Eventually I began the long road to restoration, having finally decided that a frame-off was not going to happen—not enough garage space and not practical from a value standpoint. So, the brake system was the first order of business, as the master cylinder had some rust issues. Next, heater hoses, resolution of some radiator issues, freeze plugs, and a pressure wash of the engine compartment got us cleaned up pretty well. I had the Dynaflow automatic transmission rebuilt so we could drive more than a few miles before having to top off. Then a quick (not really) trip to the DMV got us back on the street again.
Paint and body work were up next. The recession in 2008 shuttered many of the local shops whose business cards I had been keeping in my desk for several years, so the search was on for an experienced shop that was familiar with my vintage treasure. In the meantime, the seemingly endless list of little annoyances (horn ring shorted out, heater controls jammed, wipers inoperable…) kept me in the garage and out of trouble. And in an ironic twist, it looked like I would be selling the sports car to pay for the restoration …
I visited a couple of places with Betsy, and while the owners were impressed, many started off by talking about how they could chop the roof line, make her a two-door, etc. Their enthusiasm waned, however, when I explained that I was looking for a bone-stock restoration. The search ended in the spring of 2012 with a serendipitous meeting at a nearby Cars & Coffee.
I was chatting with a fellow enthusiast who was there with his nicely restored ’50s era Chevy and the conversation got around to finding a shop for Betsy. The folks who helped him with his ride were out of business but he pointed me to a beautiful yellow Packard that had just arrived, the owner of which had had some work done locally and was very pleased with the results. I used my phone to snap a picture of the only card he had left for the shop.
A week or two later, I stopped by to introduce myself and my project. The shop owner, Mike Thaxton, was friendly, supportive and understanding of my dilemma. He and I talked at length and I took Betsy to him during the first week of July. Over the course of the next two years, Mike and his guys brought Betsy back to a better-than-new condition.
She regained her spot in the garage, beneath a cover during the week, but became a frequent visitor to Cars & Coffee on Saturday mornings. She also made a few trips to the prom and her fair share of local car shows.
Eventually, however, it was time to pass her along. I did my due diligence in trying to find a new home for Betsy from among my siblings, kids, and cousins. Sadly, it became apparent there was little interest in taking over responsibilities for the car.
I consigned Betsy to Mecum’s Las Vegas auction in 2021, and she sold for about half of what I had invested in her restoration to a company in Chicago. She appeared on their web site only once and was presumably resold. I have been meaning to try to find the VIN in my records to see if I could discover the new owner(s), but it hasn’t happened yet.
A couple days after the auction, however, I happened to be on I-15 in Vegas and saw Betsy on the top level of a car hauler headed south. Had just enough time to get one last photo as she drove off into the sunset.
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