It’s no secret that I’ve possessed a sizable affinity for the third generation (1996-2000) NS Chrysler minivans ever since they debuted when I was a very small child. To the very young me, there was just so much I found cool about the, from their vast array of models and trim levels to their highly configurable interiors, numerous thoughtful convenience features, and their good looks that I was in pure awe over.
My aunt owned a 1999 base model Grand Voyager (having previously owned a ’95), and I always wanted my mom to get one too, preferably a high-trim Grand Caravan or Town and Country. The dream would have been if Mom came home with a Town and Country Limited some day, but alas, my too-cool Mom wasn’t ever to be caught dead driving a minivan.
She preferred her 1994 Grand Cherokee, and despite my advocating, traded it in for her second one in 1999, not even taking a glance at the beautiful black Town and Country Limited parked next to it in the showroom. I guess my car sales skills were still a few years off. In hindsight, I can’t imagine my mom ever driving a minivan, as it doesn’t fit her image.
Of course, as I grew older, the cars I wanted Mom to get grew decidedly more upscale and driver-oriented, yet even to this day, that unfulfilled childhood desire still exists. When you were a young child, was there a car that you wanted your mom or dad to get? Did they get it?
When I was 7 (1998) I wanted my mom to get a then-new Dodge Intrepid because it looked so cool! Thankfully, she ended up with a ‘99 Volvo S70.
When I turned 16, my dad gave me his 1971 Catalina to take over the family driving duties and started shopping for a new car. He liked the downsized 77 Bonneville but I was afraid he would come home with another plain looking Catalina, so I called around and found a dealer on his way to work that had a couple of Bonneville Broughams in stock with the striped Valencia interior, too wild for today but really cool back in the ’70s. Much to our surprise he bought a black one, fully loaded, that had been the dealership owner’s personal demo. Here’s a pic of the interior.
That’s awesome! And now that’s some velour upholstery I can get behind!
Needs more tufting. 😉
I remember one Saturday when I was about 7 years old my Dad Taking me to Yates Oldsmobile here in St. Louis to pick up our brand new 1967 F-85 wagon in Fire Engine Red. Our new wagon was positioned outside in the drive awaiting us to drive off in it. Right next to it presuming also waiting for a new owner delivery, was a yellow 4-4-2 convertible. I can remember asking my Dad “why can’t we take this car home instead?” Of course, his response was “because this red car is the one we bought not the yellow one”. Being even at that early age, a car nut, I fantasized about us owning that yellow 4-4-2 and showing it off to all my friends.Through the miracle of the internet, I was able to find a photo of that particular model in the same yellow on black.
Cars were merely transportation modules for my father, as long as it was cheap to buy, got him to work and back, and didn’t cause him to spend a lot of money on repairs, he was happy. The cars of my youth were a 1946 Plymouth (I only have vague memories of this one), a 1950 Ford (this one wasn’t kept too long), a 1954 Plymouth (first car with automatic transmission and a 1960 Ford (I wrecked this one a couple of months after I started driving). The wrecked Ford was replaced by a 1962 Pontiac station wagon purchased for $300; this car had been wrecked at some point and had been “repaired”. The Pontiac went down the road at an angle and sort of sloped down to the right front from the left rear. It did provide several years of service, meeting its end when someone blew a stop sign and caved in the passenger side. Fortunately my sister, who was driving, was not injured. It was around this time that I moved out of the house for good and no longer provided input on parental car purchases. The only new vehicle my father ever purchased, at least for himself, was a 1984 Dodge pickup he bought shortly before he retired. My siblings and I were not surprised that he still had the Dodge when he passed in 2000.
68 Buick Wildcat 2 door. To this day I remember admiring it’s beautiful swoopy, jet-age shape in the showroom. It made our 66 LeSabre 4 door sedan seem so dowdy.
In one Saturday afternoon, back in the late 70s, my father took me for a ride… “Let’s go to see a Mustang” I almost fainted. By that time the first gen Stangs became pretty affordable in Brazil and apparently he had the money to buy one.
It was a 1966 convertible, red with black top.
The owner was an old lady and she owned the car since new… yep, it doesn’t get any better than that.
First thing, obviously, pop up the hood to check the bay and… there was a in line 6 in between the fenders. He forgot to ask about the engine when he previously called the lady.
He thanked her and walked away.
“A six cylinder Mustang? Makes no sense ” he told me.
I kept bothering him for a long time to buy another one but it never happened.
Why? Why Lord that car wasn’t a V8?????
Still wishing ……
In 1960 my Dad left the company he was working for to start his own business. The company had always furnished him with a nicely equipped middle line Ford or Chevy company car. Since he needed a car he went down to our local small town Ford dealer to look around. My brother and I went with him and tried to get him to buy the pretty black Starliner . Instead, he settled on the bottom line stripper two door sedan with a six and three on the tree and no options except for a radio and heater. I was very disappointed. What made it worse for my 12 year old mind was that it was the same shade of blue that his former company car 1960 Ford was. No one even realized that we had a new car. Luckily for me, he traded it off two years later on a nice new 1962 Olds wagon. Once I got my license a couple of years later I probably would have been embarrassed to drive the Ford. The Olds was just fine. Besides, I then had my own first car, a 1951 Chevy. I think that Chevy with it’s 6 and Powerglide probably saved me from getting killed driving the Olds and showing off it’s V8 power.
Once I got my license a couple of years later I probably would have been embarrassed to drive the Ford. The Olds was just fine. Besides, I then had my own first car, a 1951 Chevy. I think that Chevy with it’s 6 and Powerglide probably saved me from getting killed driving the Olds and showing off it’s V8 power.
Paul
Sorry for the double post. I tried twice to post the above but it wouldn’t go. The second time, the first part disappeared and I received a “not responding” message, but it looks like part of it went through. I came here just a minute ago to try and repost it, but I see that I don’t need to.
Our 3-year-old pushed as hard as he was able for me to buy a Jeep earlier this year. Set as I was on a lovely manual Mazda 6, I appreciated my wife’s help when she labelled the 6 “Boppa’s racecar” to help sell the tot on my choice. It worked. I only hope he’s as accepting when I realize my own childhood dream car acquisition of either a late-60s Buick Sport Wagon or Olds Vista Cruiser!
Sunbeam Rapier (Alpine GT) and then a Rover 3500 SD1).
Never succeeded with either.
I was a bit older when I tried to convince my Dad to buy a new car. He was planning to replace the Cressida with something smaller, so I started dropping brochures around the house strategically to get his attention. My primary choices (this was in the early 1990s) were the Hyundai Elantra, Mazda 323 and Nissan Sentra. What did he choose? The Daewoo Cielo (Nexia), of all things!
If minivans had been around in ’68, my folks would’ve bought one!
That year I was 12, we were just back in the States after Dad’s last overseas Air Force assignment, and needed a car.
I was with my folks during their first stop at a local Chevy dealer and I immediately lusted for a pale yellow Impala convertible. Of course my folks weren’t at all interested in my car-buying suggestions.
They didn’t even buy a car there, but instead, Dad wound up buying a bank-repo, white ’67 Chevy Malibu Concours wagon, complete with a 327 V8, faux-wood siding and a roof-rack!
At least it did have factory air-conditioning, and (much more rare in a ’67 Chevy) a factory AM/FM radio!
Mom didn’t really like driving that big car. So two years later, she finally got her own ‘dream-wagon’, a demo-1970 VW Squareback, which turned out to be the biggest lemon ever!
Today ironically, I’d prefer a wagon, if the decent ones hadn’t all been killed off by mini vans and SUVs!
Happy Motoring, Mark