One of the first “new” cars that I really remember my father purchasing was an Olds 88. It was a huge automobile with power everything. It was a four door hardtop that stood out as a real mark of my father’s hard work. And I know with wings, that car would have taken flight – it just hauled baby!

Up until this car, the only new car we had ever had was a 1955 Chevy and while I do not remember it well, I know that my dad often told others how it was “a lemon” and that the dealer finally took it back and we once again drove our 1952 Plymouth Voyager.

The Oldsmobile was a dream come true for my father. He, like many men of this time, was a WWII veteran, highly decorated (although he never said much about the war) fiercely proud to be an American and would never dreamed of buying anything that didn’t come from Detroit. We went to Fourth of July parades, honored Veteran’s and Memorial Day and I remember him standing ramrod straight as the National Anthem played at a baseball game and would see tears on his checks as, “… over the land of the free and the home of the brave” was sung by some local talent.

Yup – that Olds was a dream come true for him because he worked hard and believed that such was a just reward – and it was. I know America was a simpler place and times were different, but as a nation we embraced an ethic that rewarded hard work and people took care of themselves and one another in a whole different way. My father worked as an electrician and would do some wiring on the weekend at a friend’s house and the following weekend there would be a truckload of firewood in return.

The Oldsmobile only got about 9 miles per gallon. We lived in the San Bernardino Mountains in a little town called “Crestline” and there were only three stations, a 76, a Shell and a “Standard Oil” (now known as Chevron) for a total of probably six or eight pumps. The Olds used “ethyl” which was typically two cents more than regular. My dad complained when a fill up used the better part of a five dollar bill – but that went with the car. Big car, big gas bill.

We always looked forward to the new car line ups in September. I remember going to San Bernardino to the “Orange Show” where the dealers revealed their fall lineup in one of the big buildings on the fair grounds. There were “egg shaped” Isettas and three cylinder two stroke Saabs – but every kid I knew was drawn to the Mercury Marauders with dual quads or the SS 427 Chevys that more displacement per cylinder than the entire line up of BMW cars.

There was always excitement and never any talk of “fuel efficiency” or CAFÉ standards. Mind you, we knew that cars made some pollution. The smog in Southern California was bad in the fifties and sixties, but the Santa Anna winds would come in the fall and we would once again have a view from our house in the mountains all the way to Catalina Island.

This isn’t to say we were not concerned about our environment – we were – but we didn’t look to the government to “take care” of us. Such would have been an insult. When we were sick, we went to the doctor and what insurance we had either took care of the cost or we worked out the balance with the doctor. If a prescription was necessary, we paid for it at the local pharmacy with cash – and perhaps deferred the purchase of something else until such could be afforded. And all the while, GM, Ford and Chrysler made money because they made cars that people wanted – not cars that the government told us we wanted. Cars were a direct reflection of where and what we as American were and maybe that still true today.

I know that the torch has been passed, but I cannot accept the governments mandate for change in the design and form of the cars we drive. I thought “we the people” still ran America. If GM really goes all the way down, it won’t be because we don’t like the cars that they make – it will be because we stop caring about who makes the decisions about what cars we drive.

God knows I miss my father – I miss the Olds too….

Regards All, Happy 4th of July, and God Bless America,
Glenn