The Buick automobile has been entwined with my life since I was a kid. I was told that my Grandpa Chalk had always wanted a Buick. In the early 1940's, automobiles weren't being built because our factories were used for the World War II effort. You know! Airplaines, jeeps, ammunition and stuff. Grandpa Chalk had purchased his black four door "round back" Buick just as World War II was beginning. It was parked in a garage on the back of the City Club properties. The garage had one door that lifted up and was very narrow. If you were a passenger in the Buick, you had to exit before it was pulled into the garage. For some reason I remember the garage because there was space next to the car for storage of bicycles. There was always a musty smell when I went into the garage. I loved that smell. It just represented something that was peculiar to that Buick. Well would you believe that I can walk into my garage today when it is warm and get that same musty nostalgic smell and it doesn't come from a Buick.
Somehow my Dad missed the Buick nostalgia craze. I remember Bucky buying used Cadillacs along with a few strange cars such as a Chrysler Air-flo. Bucky jumped past the Buick to something more expensive. He would talk about Chalk always wanting a Buick. But then, I remembered something. My Dad did own a Buick. He had returned from the World War II. He was playing summer baseball for the Plymouth City team. He always offered to drive team members to baseball games that were out of town. The players would assemble one block from the City Club at the Goodrich-Nickolas gas station and then depart for the ballgame. My dad's car was this big long black four door car that looked like an Al Capone mafia car. It was right out of the mid 1930's. There was room for 3 baseball players across the back seat and I recall a couple of "jump seats" in the back for couple more players. My mother would sit in the front usually with another player. I think I'm describing an autombile disguised as a bus. It was a Buick. It was a big old black touring car with a Buick pedigree. So yep, my dad had a Buick too.
In later years (1960's) I remember talking to my Uncle Bob about a new Cadillac convertible he had purchased. Just before the Cadillac, he had a Buick convertible but he only kept it a year or two. He talked about how "owning" a Buick was always one of his goals because his dad had ingrained into his head that is was the ultimate achievement. He said his Buick had been a piece of "crap" (those are my words) and he couldn't wait to get rid of it. So much for the Buick nostalgia.
Now we are into my generation buying a Buick. My grandpa had a Buick. My dad did own a Buick. My uncle owned a Buick. I needed to own a Buick. Buicks were always known as a "step up" from Chevrolets. There were Pontiacs, Oldsmobiles, and Buicks that were part of the General Motors family. Buicks were the highest quality and represented some degree of success. So did I yearn for a Buick? I have to admit that having been around the myth that "Buicks were the symbol of success", owning a Buick did interest me. My compromise was to buy a 1982 Buick Century as our second car. It was a midsize car with the newer front engine drive. It was the car your mother was driving when an old man ran an intesection on Superior Ave. in Sheboygan and nearly wiped out both your mom and the car. It was a car! It was nothing special. It did nothing to live up to "Buick's are special". I couldn't wait to get rid of it.
So far, none of you Grasshoppers has ever owned a Buick so maybe the family nostalgia has stopped. The truth is that many of the General Motor cars had interchangable parts from the cheaper Chevy to the more expensive Buick disclosing the fact that there was nothing special about the Buick. What you were paying for was image.
Still I will always recall walking into that musty garage in the back of the City Club and smelling scents that were peculiar to the Buick (at least I thought they were). It made an indelible etching in my mind. Sometimes I can still smell that car in my own garage. Gad, I love that smell.
Love,
Dad
hey have you ever written about the history of military service in our family, I know there is some just wondering what wars the Andrews have fought in.