...and I really don't need air-conditioned seats

Sometime in 1972, when I was about 11 years old, my father and I stopped at the Jules Myers Pontiac Dealership on the southwest corner of Westwood and Santa Monica Boulevards in West Los Angeles. It was sometime in the early evening on a weekday, and on a whim my dad turned left from the northbound Westwood lanes and pulled into the car lot to look at a brand-spanking new black ‘72 Grand Prix. We were driving a black ’65 Thunderbird at the time (that still shined as well as the day he drove it off the lot in ’65), so sticking with a Pontiac made some sense.

I’ll never forget the test drive that followed. My dad got behind the wheel of that beautiful new union made sled and the salesman hopped into the front passenger seat.  I climbed into the back…and the red vinyl interior looked so luxurious it was like settling into a junior suite at the Waldorf Astoria. It was the first time in my young life that I recall experiencing “that new car smell,” but the most memorable thing about that drive was yet to come.

As my dad pulled out of the dealership to drive north up Westwood (toward the UCLA campus),  the salesman leaned forward and turned on the FM stereo. As an 11 year-old in 1972, I’d never heard the sound of an FM stereo in a vehicle. I’m pretty sure my father hadn’t heard it either and I remember snapping my head around when I realized there was quadrophonic music emanating from the two rear speakers behind me. I’d never heard anything but AM music coming from small speaker in the dash board and now it was like Carnegie Hall on wheels. I remember thinking instantly that we had to by that car.

We didn’t buy the Pontiac. Though my dad tried to dicker with the salesman he couldn’t get him where he wanted. My old man had also heard about a new Ninety Eight Oldsmobile Regency, and he wanted to see that car before he decided what to buy. A couple of weeks later we ended up at the Albertson Oldsmobile dealership on Sepulveda a few miles south in Culver City. Doubt many of you can recall what the Ninety Eight looked like…but it was one of the biggest vehicles tip-to-tail that GM ever made. The Regency (the top-of-the-line for the Ninety Eight) had brushed velour interior and a quadrophonic 8 Track Stereo. If the Grand Prix was like Carnegie Hall, the Olds was like Carnegie Hall meets a high-end Bordello (I mean...as I've imagined).

 After chiseling down the poor sap that was working the showroom floor that night (and walking out the door at least twice), dad bought the car for what I believe was about $5,500.00. Dad had a rule that you should never make an initial offer unless you were embarrassed by the amount (otherwise your initial offer was too high) and though I don’t recall the spread…he drove off the lot paying considerably less than the sticker. We paid cash…because the only thing my old-school father ever reluctantly bought on credit was one home. I’ll never forget when we pulled off of the lot in the new car…my dad announced “well…we just lost one thousand dollars.” He went on to explain that the minute you drove a new car off the lot…you lost money because you could typically never get what you just paid for it.

My depression era mom (she was born in ’29 and lived in North Dakota through the dust bowl years) didn’t sleep for a week after making that luxurious purchase. In the typical conservative form of her Scandinavian ancestors…she was convinced we were shamefully “putting on the dog” and the vehicle was in her words… “just too swell.”

That struck me as strange, because from my perspective my WWII veteran and IBEW electrician father was doing well enough with his collectively bargained wages that he could have bought a Cadillac (or certainly entertained the idea by test driving one). At the end of the day though, he was never going to pay the premium “just for a fancy hood ornament.” He used to say all the time that a Buick, Mercury, Olds, or Pontiac “was plenty good enough for the working man.”

 

Even later in life…when he saved enough that he could have easily afforded his and her Lincolns every other year, he never strayed from his philosophy of restraint. The most luxurious car he ever owned was a Mercury Grand Marquis…and even long after his passing, his last shinny Grand Marquis still sits in his garage in Santa Paula, CA and my 84 year-old mom still drives it every single day. The Merc looks about as good as it did when it was driven off the lot about 10 years ago…and just about every other trip back to California I wash and Simonize it from top-to-bottom while listening to my dad’s old 8-tracks which can still play on his garage stereo.

 I always kind of resented my father’s hood ornament thriftiness when it came to cars…and resolved not to make his same mistake by denying myself the luxury I was so certain I was entitled to. I dumbly bought my first used ’76 Cadillac Seville in my late 20s for $3,000. I remember my dad was disappointed when he first saw it…feeling I’d learned nothing about the conservative spending (or more importantly saving) values he demonstrated so well.  Though a gorgeous ride, that car ended up costing me a fortune…and there was really no good excuse for me driving that kind of vehicle at that age.   

About two weeks ago I drove a new vehicle off the Jim Coleman Cadillac Dealership in Bethesda, MD. The car made me think about my dad…because if it floated, it could easily fit right in to the Carnival or Viking fleet. It is immaculate, and drives like an absolute dream.

Can’t know for sure, but I imagine my dad kind of frowned as I drove off the lot though I’m hopeful he may have felt a little better knowing the car wasn’t new. Sure…I wanted the hood ornament, but like him I didn’t want to fork over the premium price. It was actually a 2005 with 67,000 miles…and after going back-n-forth with the salesman in a way that would have made dad proud, I got it for a song.  The car is in absolutely showroom condition…and I can’t help but think it must have been owned by someone that took care of it just like my dad would have.

What’s the point of all this? Not sure really…just wish I had a bit more of my dad’s saving discipline. I probably spend more on wine each week than my dad spent on meals in a month (even adjusting for inflation). If I applied even half of his restraint in my own life…I’d be retired by now…and no doubt driving a brand-spanking-new Buick with all the options…paid for in cash…at well-below the sticker price.

And I’d drive it for at least 10 years...  

Have a great weekend 

 

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