I awoke this morning found my Cadillac amongst a sea of Buicks.
I’ve always bee rather partial to Buicks. I got my drivers license in Buick Electra Estate Wagon (with genuine simulated walnut vinyl veneer). I very clearly remember the day when my father brought home his very first Buick company car, which was a stunning navy blue metallic with a gold pin stripe. Even better, it had power windows.
My home town, Birmingham, was a Buick town. It didn’t matter if you were the President of a bank, head pastor of a large church, or the mayor of the town – – you drove a Buick.
So what a delight to see more that a hundred beautifully-restored Buicks in Colorado Springs. The Buick club really put on a whopper of a show, gorgeous Roadmasters, 225, Riverias, Le Sabres, Centuries, Electras, Invicta, and Grand Nationals were on display. Kim and I spent many hours strolling the parking lot and talking to many enthusiasts about Motorpool.com.
I had many personal favorites: a 1949 Buick Roadmaster wagon (a woody of course); a 1958 Limited with more chrome than my 1958 Cadillac; a particularly stunning 1963 Riveria, and a 1956 Skylark.
Kim fell in love with a 1959 LeSabre Estate Wagon in silver. It’s fierce face matches Kim’s outgoing personality.
The managers of the Buick Club of American, Mike and Nancy Book, are also the managers of the Cadillac & The LaSalle Club, and the Packard Club. They kindly helped me gets tickets to the award banquet, where I gave a short presentation on Motorool.
I told the story about my grandfather Guy Wiggins and his 1939 Buick Century. One afternoon in the summer of 1940, Guy was driving his long, black Buick home from his base in west Texas. Suddenly, a Hudson Tereplane came up to pass Guy and his Buick. “I decided I didn’t want him to pass,” said Guy. So Guy sped up. So did the Hudson Tereplane. Guy floored the Buick. So did the Hudson.
Finally, at a 107 miles per hour, the Hudson gave up.
“And then what happened?” I asked Guy.
“I got home early for supper,” said Guy.
I didn’t share with the Buick club that Guy’s wife Helen picked him up in Atlanta after World War II in that Buick. I also didn’t tell them that Guy felt somewhat sheepish after returning home to drive long, black car with its stately lines and its duel sidemounts. After the war, he was, unemployed. He sold the car, but kept up with it’s whereabouts for years. The final seventeen years of the Century’s life were spent running a “push-hard sawmill,” as Guy put it, “you just couldn’t kill that straight-eight motor.”
At 93 years old, Guy has stopped driving and no longer owns a Buick. I signed him up as a member of the Buick Club, however.
If you own, once owned, or just have a passion for a particular marque, you should join that brand’s club. The Buick Club, for example, provides camaraderie, entertainment, and great heaps of information. Plus Guy really enjoys their monthly newsletter ‘The Buick Bugle,” edited by TK.