Greetings.
Let me introduce myself; my name is Betty and I’m a Buick Roadmaster. Perhaps you are asking yourself about a talking car. Since you hopefully met my garage mate, Buck, this time last year, you will remember that cars do talk – anything mechanical will talk. But first, a little bit about me.
I was purchased over the summer by Jack and his lovely wife Diane. When I was new, I was purchased by a thirty-five year old Roman Catholic priest. He had purchased a Toyota Camry but the sound and smoothness of its four-cylinder engine strongly reminded him of
www.tractorbynet.com
his father’s Ford Jubilee tractor, a machine he had spent many hours on as a youngster. Fr. Donovan was a good man, but he was certainly picky about his cars. He truly tried to like that Camry, but as he told the salesman at the Buick dealer, one can add all the valves and camshafts you want, but nothing makes such effortless, abundant, and immediate torque as does a push-rod V8. Fr. Donovan confessed to the salesman that everyone has their various vices and body-on-frame cars were his. That’s how he came into my life.
Fr. Donovan treated me well and really hated to sell me; he did so only as he was getting promoted to the Vatican. He called it his Central Office job. Fr. was uncertain about how easy I would be to sell, but Jack came along rather quickly. It seems Jack has developed quite the Buick fetish after having Buck for nearly two years.
As I relay this experience, I am sitting in the garage two hours after our arrival back home from Diane’s big family Christmas get-together in St. Louis. Jack wanted to take me instead of Buck as he said I am the ultimate version of the last of the real B-bodies produced by GM and wanted to show me off to the family. Jack says I have the heart of a Corvette, the ride of a Cadillac, and the panache only found in a Buick. I like that as so many cars nowadays look at me and call me a whale.
That’s okay. Yes, I do weigh 4,200 pounds, but the lightest new Honda Odyssey weighs 4,400 pounds. I’m just big-boned; that Honda is as porky as the swine house at the fair. Besides, I don’t blow through transmissions like they are fuel filters.
Sorry, I digress. Some things do tend to hurt a my feelings and talking about a girl’s weight is always a losing proposition.
Jack and Diane had their family Christmas party at the house of one of Diane’s uncles. The trip on the interstate was nice except Jack incessantly played a CD of a Western theme song written by an Italian composer and played by a British orchestra using instruments created in Hawaii; Diane was ready to toss the CD out the window. A few minutes before we arrived, Jack stated he had a really strong urge and needed to stop. Diane, thinking he had to use the restroom, was miffed when Jack walked back out of the convenience store with a six-pack, saying he might need a little Christmas cheer before the evening was over.
When we arrived a few minutes later, Jack proudly parked me in the driveway, next to the sidewalk leading to the front door and in front of the garage. Despite everyone else parking curbside, Jack stated a car like me needed to be seen by everyone there as I was a living legend. I like hearing that. Jack said that his two Buick B-bodies made him one of the most fortunate guys around. I like listening to what Jack has to say – he’s a really smart guy.
Jack was certainly right about everyone seeing me. The men at the gathering all came out to take a good, hard look at me. They admired my full-figure, my cavernous trunk, and my 5.7 liter, 350 cid, 260 horsepower LT1 V8. All agreed the demise of the Roadmaster at the end of 1996 was truly a sad day in world history. Several of the men made snide remarks about the Roadmaster line, as well as my Cadillac and Chevrolet cousins, being axed to make extra production capacity for pickups and SUV’s. One tall gentleman even opined how GM was a great car company but had been fatally lured by the easy profits that could be found from pickup sales at the time. Somebody else said they had a friend who had gone to work in the GM pickup division in the mid-90’s and had told him GM was making $15,000 profit per Suburban, but nothing like that on the B-bodies; everyone agreed that would be a mighty temptation for any company. All thought GM abandoning a market that Ford easily assumed with the Panther was downright sinful. I agree.
After discussion about me died down, the tall-tales started to fly. One man said he had owned a rare factory authorized ’76 Chrysler Cordoba with a 426 cid hemi V8; someone else claimed to have briefly owned a very limited edition ’75 Ford Thunderbird. It made me think of Fr. Donovan once saying the first liar never stands a chance.
The party broke rather abruptly. A grandmother came out to inform everyone that the kids had been playing in the backyard and found the adjacent railroad tracks too big of a temptation; they had started out making faces at the passing trains but someone had upped the ante. She said all those kids were now mooning the passing trains and the fathers were needed. Isn’t the moon in the sky? This makes no sense to me.
Not too long after, Jack came out and got a bottle from my trunk.
His being there prompted a cousin to come out. His cousin Bobby started fussing about his sister’s husband and what a trouble maker he is. It seems one day Bobby was taking a break at work. A co-worker was on the internet and found some car themed website called Streetside Classic – or something of that nature – and found an article with all these derelict cars and a brief story of each. Bobby said he was shocked to see the pictures were of HIS cars. Looking at the by-line revealed it was written by his brother-in-law, whom he had deemed to be a worthless scoundrel. Bobby was infuriated with Jack telling him he had nothing to fuss about.
During both of these conversations, people felt the urge to lean against me. That is rude. And why are men over 40 so flatulent?
Thankfully the family gathering didn’t last much longer.
On the way back Diane drove. She is so much easier on my throttle than Jack but she is certainly more fond of slamming on my brakes. As we were percolating along around 65 mph, with my engine turning over less than 1,500 rpm, they each started to tell various stories of the night’s events.
Buck is right; people do talk about the weirdest things when inside of cars. It seems one of the cousins has a very high dollar camera but hates taking pictures. Instead of taking pictures, he dumps the camera with others and asks them to take pictures to “capture the essence of the event.” Jack said when it was dumped with him, the cousin’s seventy-eight year old mother was sitting there. As the cousin walked away, said cousin’s mother said “he’s such a dumb-ass; here, Jack, take a picture of this!” Jack was shocked that as the woman said that, she pulled her pants down, exposing her hip and and half her buttocks. Diane nearly drove me off the road from laughing when Jack said he took three pictures in case the cousin missed anything.
Jack and Diane laughed more from joking about how normal is a relative term; I’m not sure I know what they mean.
Well, my new owners are vastly different than was Fr. Donovan. However, they are taking terrific care of me and they certainly act respectful toward me. What more could I ask for?
Great sequel Jason. I’ll always find these last “big” Buicks interesting. As I wrote in my post about the wagon, I’ve always wondered why the Estate didn’t get the sedan’s front sheetmetal.
If I remember correctly, the trim doesn’t line up. Some folks have done it on their own, but GM had a history of having their wagons share more sheet metal than the sedans.
I’m partial to the Roadmaster Estate Wagon, but this is a very pretty Roadmaster sedan. A pretty loud color and no vinyl roof makes it look unusually sporty!
Creative and brilliant as usual! 🙂
Frank Costello’s ride. Nice
totally wikked retodded.
Another good story from the perspective of the car. Funny thing, though…cars and trucks do seem to take on a personality sometimes, and Betsy certainly speaks for the last of the big Buicks quite well. Though it’s now stored for the winter, there’s a late ’50’s DeSoto Fireflite that lurks a few blocks from us – a 4-door with a two tone cream and coral paint job. Other than a bit of surface rust and some of the chrome peeling off the front bumper, it’s still pretty solid and could likely tell some interesting tales…
I hope that Desoto doesn’t have the personality of Christine, the infamous ’58 Plymouth Fury from Stephen King’s novel of the same name! That car was a monster!
I always thought the late 50s Dodge Coronet had the most pissed off angry look out of 50s cars though the 59 Buick could almost match it
I do feel like cars are sentient beings with personalities, but I haven’t come across a car that talked back to me yet. They are good listeners though.
Well done Jason. My catholic school upbringing relates to it. Catholic priests in my area always did seem to enjoy a nice set of wheels, and most of them where Buicks, whereas the nuns usually drove the more utilitarian vehicle befitting of those doing god’s work. In the town where I grew up in the 80’s, the priests had a couple of new Buicks. Buick Centuries, but nice ones with the upgraded velour seats and the vinyl roof. Meanwhile, the nun’s all shared a bright orange VW Beetle circa 1976. A super beetle, as I recall, with the black trim around the headlights. Very Mother Theresa like.
This was partially inspired by the priest who married my wife and I in 1998. He drove a brand new Lincoln Town Car.
One of the priests here in Jefferson City drives a, drum roll please, extended cab Ranger 4×4.
He he. I hadn’t seen Lincoln or Cadillac, but I’m sure if I looked around in South Philly I’d have found one. The Churches in the mostly Italian neighborhoods in South Philly never seemed to want for money. They were always trimmed with the finest Italian marble and real gold everywhere. Mostly thanks to the guilty consciences of those in the mob 🙂
Hmmm….Our Catholic priest drove a dark green DAF 66, he came to visit our school every week. However: the DAF’s Variomatic gearbox was inspired by the smooth ride of a big Buick with an automatic gearbox from the fifties. One of DAF’s directors (and engineer of the Variomatic) drove one back in those days.
In retrospective the DAF was nothing to be ashamed of, after all, the Pope drives a Renault 4.
I do wonder what effect the papal R4 will have on the automotive leanings of the priesthood…
Pope Francis taste for simple cars is understandable, he is a Jesuit after all, I went to a Jesuit school as a kid, all the priests had plain jane ToyoNovas of varying bland colors, grey, white, blue, repeat. I think they have Fiestas today, I’ve never seen a priest driving a Cadillac.
Of course the miles are true….would I lie?
I’m so over white……
I work for the Jesuits. Our local motor pool is pretty much all Toyotas: 3 Corollas, and a Matrix. There is also one Kia. We did have one Buick LeSabre but it was retired seven years ago. Our neighboring Jesuit community has a New Beetle, a Camry, an Impala, and a Buick Park Avenue
Oooh. a Park Avenue. Wow. That’s different. One of the deans had a baby Seville, but he wasn’t a priest.
Yeah..The Park Avenue was probably donated by some benefactor.
Around here, Chevy Impalas and Honda Civcs have been popular among the Catholic clergy. Locally, there has also been a good representation of Chryslers and Toyotas, but this may have something to do with the active catholic family who owned the dealerships. Either good deals for Father or a desire to do business with parishioners, or both.
Our religion teacher at highschool was a Franciscan. Wherever he went, he always wore his dark brown habit with a white rope. He used to swing that rope like a professional rodeo rider, the knot landed on your desk very hard when you didn’t pay attention. It was meant as a joke, he was very open minded with progressive thoughts.
I never ever saw the man in a car, he always seemed to walk. He recently passed away.
Little Diddy about jack and Diane, 2 American kids growing up in the heartland…..
Yeah I was waiting for the part in the story with chili dogs from the Tastee Freeze…
I thought “Jack and Diane” sounded less unruly than, say “Bonnie and Clyde”.
Enjoyable tale. I wonder what our car will be saying about my family over holiday travels?
I am another who was always enamored of these Buicks. This was the kind of car at which GM excelled. As for the styling, I always liked the back of the wagons and the front of the sedans. That sedan grille just screamed early 1950s Buick heritage to me.
Up until recently, there still seemed to be a lot of these on the road, many still in very nice condition. The numbers are starting to dwindle now. I wonder how many of these we lost to C4C? Probably quite a few.
Betty sounds like she’s pretty laid back. You gotta love that in a car.
I would love to have a roadmaster with LT1 under the hood,i am also the original owner of 2002 Honda minivan with 358000 miles on stock engine&trans.the key is to change the trans filter&fluid every 20k miles.its working for me.
The Monsignor at Immaculate Conception came from a well to-do family, and bought a new black Electra 225 every other year. I can see that the ’65 he had inspired the Roadmaster to no small degree.
I can see their appeal (to others), but I’ve never been a fan of these Roadmasters, stylistically. Too fat, but sitting on a way-too short wheelbase, hence bad proportions, among other faults. Bill Mitchell would not have approved
Very nice find! Didn’t they sell more Roadmaster wagons than sedans?
I will always associate the sedan with “The Departed”…
Nice car. What a shame they cancelled it
All I know about this generation of B Body is from Paul Cockburn’s (still the most entertaining motoring writer IMHO) memorable review of the Roadmaster Wagon in Australian Wheels magazine. IIRC his first impression was that one lap of the car was a substantial walk, and his pet names for the car degenerated from Roadbarge to Roadscourge to finally just Roadbastard. Nevertheless he ended up growing fond of the Roadbugger.
Not many of these here in NZ though. I think the only B body I’ve seen here is an Impala SS. Our perhaps that’s just wishful thinking…
Is it just me or does this Buick have a moustache?
Merry Christmas to all!
All I can think of are those sh**ty interior door panels that felt like cardboard and plastic. They felt the same way in the Caprice and Fleetwood.
The reverend at my grandparent’s Baptist church traded in his 1981 Fifth Avenue for a Roadmaster. We got a ride from church to the Country Buffet in his. The velour was glorious, but those door panels. I bet if I kicked hard enough I could have put holes in them.
Also the window rollers (on the whale cars) would break inside the door panel causing the power windows to not operate properly. I used to have a few of these when I was younger and all had this problem. The whale bodies were faster and more comfortable but the boxy bodies were more trouble free. Over the years,I owned the following in order of acquisition:
1978 Caprice Classic Sedan
1991 Caprice sedan
1995 9C1 Caprice sedan (police package)
1992 Buick Roadmaster wagon
1988 Caprice Estate Wagon
1995 Caprice Wagon
1995 Buick Roadmaster Wagon
1993 Caprice Wagon
All the whale bodies succumbed to expensive mechanical failures. The 78 was given to a friend who really needed a car. The best was the 88 Wagon. It had only 44k miles on it. The only reason I got rid of it was that the interior had an extremely foul odor that we could not get rid off no matter how much we tried (like the Sienfeld episode). Other than that, it was a wonderful car, even with the Olds 307, I miss that car the most.
I love this car. I would love to have a Buick just like this one.