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DEAR CHILDREN Those Hot Rods

nothing more than ornamental. If you were lucky
enough to own a Buick Century or the top of the line
Buick Roadmaster, the front fenders had FOUR of
these holes. The Century and the Roadmaster were the
luxury cars of the Buick line, not that they were bigger
than the Special we had, but I believe the radio and
heater were standard equipment, as were power
steering and brakes, and optional features included
power windows and air conditioning. Back then, air
conditioning was a luxury, even though the weather
wasn't any different than it is today. Grandpa tells me
that the Buick cost, new, off the showroom floor, about
$2,600, tax, license, dealer prep. and out the door.

As the years progressed from 1955 when we
bought the Buick, the car began to show its age (don't
we all) and the car became just a car. So naturally
when it was given to me, on my 16th birthday, it
somehow didn't feel like my car. After all, it had been
in the family for 8 years, and I was more comfortable

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riding in it than driving it.
The day I turned 16, Grandma took me to the

Department of Motor Vehicles to get my license. I
had previously only had a learners permit that I got the
day I turned 15 ½, and since the learners permit was
only good for exactly 6 months, I had no room for error
on my test, and there was no grace period after the 6
months. If I had failed the driver's test, I would have
to pay another $3 since the original $3 included the
learners permit AND the license, should you pass the
first time. And pass I did, with 89% required to pass,
and my score being 96%. I even remember the route
the examiner took me on for the driver’s test, and I
remember I didn't have to parallel park, which was one
of the requirements needed to pass, and the one I
couldn't do very well. I don't know why I didn't have
to do it, and frankly, don't care.

I was issued my temporary license, while I waited
up to 59 days for my license to come from Sacramento.

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When it arrived, I was astonished to see how ugly the
picture was. But I put it in my wallet and showed it
off to anyone I knew. I was very proud of that license,
and on my first day out, I was supposed to go back to
school with a note from Mom that I had a dentist
appointment that morning which was why I was late.
Thanks, Mom.

I took the ole' Buick for a spin into the hills behind
Taft High School, figuring that if worse came to
worse, I was in the general vicinity of the school. I
drove for about an hour or so, paying no attention to
gas in the car, oil, general maintenance. My
concentration was focused only on the fact that I was
driving alone, legally. As I drove throughout the hills
in Woodland Hills, I tried my luck at some dirt roads
along the mountainsides. As I drove, the roads got
narrower and narrower, and I became loster and loster.
I continued to drive along this narrow dirt road along
a mountainside and I don't even know if it was a road

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or just a trail. The road was absolutely no wider than
the car itself and as I looked out the driver's window, I
could look straight down at the cliff below. One
wrong turn and I would have flipped over the cliff. I
can see the headlines now:

NEW DRIVER FOUND DEAD AFTER
CUTTING SCHOOL TO GET LICENSE

I continued around the mountain until up ahead I
could see patches of asphalt and civilization. As
relieved as I was, I still was on this dirt road with
nowhere to go. It was a very frightening experience,
not so much for my safety or that of the car, but how
would I explain my whereabouts to my mother and
father if they found out?

The 1955 Buick saw me through many years of
dependable transportation but there was something
missing: I wasn't just satisfied with an AM radio. FM
stations were very rare, and never found in a car - they

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were reserved for homes only, and again, never in
stereo. There were no tapes, no cassettes, no compact
discs. God, how did we ever survive??!! Well, one
day while I was on a break at work (The Big Donut
Drive In in Reseda), I walked a block down to Sav On
Drugs and in their camera-electronics department, for
$29.99, was what every 16 year old should have for his
very own 1955 Buick: A record player that mounted
under the dash of a car and plugged into the cigarette
lighter. This self-contained record player only played
LPs and had a sound to beat all sounds. There was no
treble or bass control, and it didn't play through the car
radio's speaker. It was self-contained with its own
speaker and a fifty-cent needle, replaceable at any fine
electronic, drug, or toy store.

I thought I was really something with that record
player in my car. Everyone wanted to hear their latest
favorite, so my car became the popular one at school
and at work.

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While a friend and I were cutting class one
morning, we drove the ole' Buick to Thousand Oaks.
where, because I had not checked the oil, we broke the
block in the engine, and had to have the car towed to
the Valley to get it fixed. It cost almost as much to
get it fixed as the car was worth, but it got done, and
soon after, was traded in for car #2:

A 19 something or other English Ford, called an
Anglia. This car was as small as the Buick was large.

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I could barely fit in this car, which was one of the
reasons I didn't keep it too terribly long. I don't recall
anything in particular about this car, other than it was
blue with black interior. It must not have made much
of an impression on me, because if I close my eyes, I
can see the car, but can't associate anything with it.

Car #3 was a 1960 Pontiac Bonneville convertible.
Now here was class. This bronze car with tan interior
had everything a kid could want: Style, radio (still no

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stereo), heater, and a top that went up and down,
although once while out with my friend Marla, we had
the top down, and as it got cold towards the evening,
we couldn't get the top up. Every chance I got, I
would go out driving in my convertible - I took it to
the beach whenever I could, drove it down to Newport
and Balboa Island, cruised the boulevards and was
really proud of my investment - however much it cost
(I don't remember). The only thing that was eventful
about this Pontiac convertible was one evening while
at my cousin's Rosemary and Spikes, I was baby-
sitting for their daughter, Pam, when I got this brilliant
idea: I needed a new top because I was getting ready
to trade the car in, and since I couldn't afford $100 on
a new top, I had slashed the top through the rear
window, zipper, and top, as though the car had been
burglarized, and reported it to the insurance company.
Without much ado, they had the top replaced, and in
no time, the car was traded for a . . .

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1965 Chevrolet Impala Super Sport. Families
should own such a car. This was in absolutely mint
condition, was a pale mist green with ivory vinyl
interior with bucket seats, air conditioning, the works.

Not long after buying this car, which I had to
finance at $123 a month, I bought a Motorola 8 track
stereo tape system - possibly one of the first of its
kind - and installed it directly under the dash. It was
wedged between the dash and the console, so it almost
looked like it was built into the car rather than added
on. The sound it produced was incredible even by my
standards, which as you know, are very high when it

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comes to music. I had two speakers installed In the
doors. and when it played, It PLAYED. I began
collecting 8 track tapes (try to find one NOW). and
soon had a collection that began to become a bit
absurd. Actually, there were probably less than 30
tapes that I had; 8-track was brand new, so not many
labels were coming out with them, and they were
expensive - about $6 or $7 per tape. which, if you
consider the cost today for a cassette tape of about $8
or $9 it wasn't that much less back then. I do
remember many Peter Paul and Mary tapes that I had,
that are now collector's items, and not available on
cassette or record any more.

My Super Sport was one of those cars I was proud
to take anywhere - out for the evening, or to the beach,
or just drive around. It was comfortable, it was clean,
it was sporty, it was great. I loved that car, and even
today think about the fun times I had in it. It was the
first car Mom and I dated in, and we took it many

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places - bowling, side trips, goofing around. I really
liked that car.

$125 a month was a bit out of my price range,
though, and found the car costing more than I could
afford, so I was forced, tearfully, to start looking for
something more economical. And what could be more
economical than….

A Volkswagen Bug! My first new car. Brand

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spanking new off the showroom floor. I ordered it in
the color I wanted (pale blue) and later bought an IN-
DASH 8 track player, with one speaker in the front left
part of the dashboard, and the second speaker in the
rear right panel of the back seat. I was pleased by the
sound, to say nothing of the $85 per month payments.
The car was a real kick to drive because it was so
small. I could park anywhere, and $3.00 would fill
my gas tank from empty to overflowing. I really
enjoyed that car, and can't remember why I traded it in
for another, but I did, and got a new VW bug, this time
white, with black interior, and with an 8 track stereo
delivered with the car. As Volkswagens go, it was
nothing spectacular, but it was new, and it was mine.

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This car was eventually traded in at Baher
Chevrolet soon after I married, over a Labor Day
weekend. Mom and I stopped in just to check out the
new Chevys, and before we knew it, our names were
on a contract for 36 months, $3,600, and payments of
about $125, for a brand new shiny 1969 Chevelle
Malibu. Brown exterior, black interior, with a black
vinyl roof - and yes. an 8-track stereo system that
would rival any home unit. (Cassettes STILL had not
been invented). That car brought Mom and me a lot
of pleasure. We took many trips up north in that car,

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and I remember coming home from San Francisco,
Mom was driving, and I was trying to rest. I am NOT
a good passenger, and never have been. We were
coming south on highway 33 near Coalinga, in Central
California, when all of a sudden, I found myself
hugging the shoulder of the road, in the sand, feeling
like the car was going out of control. I told Mom to
let me finish driving (I could trust my own) and
threatened her never to be able to drive again. That
trip home, by the way, we were caught in a sandstorm
that pitted the window, so when we got home, we
turned in an insurance claim that paid for a new
window and paint job.

Back to the Volkswagens. The Chevelle, as nice
as it was, again, became too expensive for my measly
salary, so it was traded in on a Volkswagen Fastback.
This is one of those cars that looks slightly different,
was not too expensive, and very inexpensive to run. It
rode like a truck because it was so heavy, but the

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heaviness caused it to be quite comfortable. It was
roomy, and just right for Mom and me. The bad thing
was, though, we also had to trade Mom's car in with
the Chevelle because she had more equity in her car
than I had in mine, so between the two cars, we bought
the fastback and a red Volkswagen SUPER beetle (the
VW bug had expanded) for Mom. I really enjoyed
driving the fastback, although the stereo I had in it was
a bolt-on under dash. but sounded good. We spent
many happy years with that car, and when we found
Mom's car was an absolute lemon, we traded her car
in a few years later for Volkswagen's newest bomb:
The 411. This was a larger car, In fact, the largest
Volkswagen ever produced at that time. It was a four-
door sedan. yellow with brown interior, and when I say
it was a bomb, I mean exactly that. Someone should
have blown it up. What a lox that one was. It was
moderately comfortable, but always needed a lot of
work. Mom took over the fastback, and had it for

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many years, when it finally gave up the ghost one
evening while I was driving it to charge up the battery
that had gone low. I was driving on a deserted part of
the 210 freeway when suddenly, it just stopped. After
towing it home, and having cousin Roger (Bart) look
at it, he said it needed a new engine, and to have it done
was out of the question, money wise. 1 made him an
offer he couldn't refuse, and $300 later, the car
belonged and still does, to him. He fixed it up, and
since he is a mechanic, was able to do it cheaper for
himself than he could have done for me. So now Mom
was out of a car, and for a couple hundred dollars,
actually $700 that Grandma and Grandpa loaned us,
we bought this wreck of an Audi two door coupe that
was the kind of a car I wouldn't give to my worst
enemy (although it was later sold to Aunt Kathy
[Mom's sister].)

After the Volkswagen 411, we upgraded to our
first station wagon, and again, a brand new car: A

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1985 Mazda 808 station wagon. The Mazda, known
for its rotary engines. was a relatively new car then,
and we were kind of skeptical about the rotary engine.
so, the car we bought was a standard run of the mill
piston engine. This car was somewhat like the small
Datsun wagons, in its size and appearance. This car
gave us many many miles (actually 108,000) before
we thought it time for a new one. It still ran great after
so many miles, although there is a little story about
that, too. It was finally sold to a private party for
$800. That was a neat little car.

The story about the 108,000 miles is that while in
the shop for a routine repair, and I don't remember
what, the dealer called me and said it needed a new
timing chain. Not being mechanical, I asked him
what a timing chain was or did, and after explaining.
I approved the repair. Well, it turns out that this
chain is somewhat like a chain on a bicycle, and the
chain has holes in it that actually go over a wheel that

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does have gears on it. When they replaced the chain,
though, the holes in the chain were not put directly on
the spokes on that gear; rather, they rested on TOP of
the gear. and it was only a matter of time (actually
about a day) before the chain would either fail into
place. or come off. My kind of luck: Driving on the
freeway on Labor Day weekend, the chain decides to
fall off, which of course, not only ruined the chain
and gear, but ruined the engine, causing the engine to
be replaced. I don't know what it did, but I had it
towed back to the Mazda dealership in Granada Hills,
and left it there until Tuesday morning, when I called
the service manager and told him what happened.
After checking it out, they said the engine had to be
replaced. and quoted me some oddball figure to do
the job. I told him that the engine had to be replaced
because of a direct reaction to the installation of the
timing chain, to which he agreed. The engine was
replaced at no charge. By this time, the car had

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about 90,000 miles on it, so when I drove it to
108,000, it was only driven about 18,000 on the new
engine. Whoever bought it got themselves a good
deal for $800. But I had another car in mind: My
dream car:

The 1975 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. After taking
one look at this car, with its massive hood, classic
styling. That was the car for me. I saw an ad for one
in Glendale for $3800, and after going out looking at

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it, I shopped around for financing, since it was being
bought from a private party. After finding the
financing, I bought the car, and other than the 1965
Impala Super Sport was my favorite car that I have
owned in all the 13 since I was 16 years old.

Here was a car that looked great, was fun to drive,
handled well, was somewhat luxurious, and gave me a
minimal of problems. All I had to do was put gas in it,
change its oil occasionally, and go. Our first trip in it
was to Jim and Janice's in San Francisco. And I
couldn't believe how fast the time flew by driving
those 6 hours up highway 5. The car was so
unbelievably comfortable after having gotten out of
the little Mazda station wagon, and after I bought the
stereo from Sears, (and installed it myself, I might
add), the car was flawless.

One evening while we were at a Dodger game, the
car was vandalized at the stadium. Someone smashed
the rear quarter window, opened the front door, and

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stole my stereo. In stealing it and the Citizens Band
radio, they literally tore apart the dashboard and wires
underneath. When I came out from the game and saw
what had happened, I was just sick. They had not only
stolen personal property, they had ruined my car. It
cost the insurance company a little over $1,500 to
replace the stereo and dashboard assembly, and the car
was tied up for about a week. When I got the car back,
not only did the dashboard look great (which was
good, too, because it had sun-split on the top of the
dash), the stereo I got was a Delco unit, made
especially for the car. This new dash made the car
more appealing to Prestige Pontiac in Van Nuys where
we traded it in on a . . .

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1981 Pontiac Phoenix. We went into the
dealership one night with Scott, who was only a couple
years old, and quite a handful in a car dealership. We
really went in just to look at the new cars, not really
intending to buy one. But the car that was on the
showroom floor was beautiful, as all showroom cars
are, and loaded to the hilt. Power this, power that,
heavy duty suspension, radio to beat all radios. But
the car we decided on was a little less equipped since
we didn't need all those extra goodies. It was a yellow

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Phoenix, parked out on the lot, that really fit our needs
and our budget. We went back into the dealership,
started to sign papers, when another salesman came
over and said he, too, was in the middle of preparing
papers for that identical car.

Our salesman told us the only one left was the blue
one on the showroom floor, and if we wanted it, he
would make us the proverbial "... deal…” and after
haggling a bit, the papers we were signing were for the
blue Phoenix on the showroom floor, loaded with all
the extras that showroom cars always have. And away
we went.

The car was really a nice car, for the size, but
certainly not for the money.

The year was 1981, we went shopping for a new
car. We came home with a brand new 1981 Pontiac
Phoenix.

It was around 10:00 that Saturday night when we
got home to a ringing phone. It was Aunt Esther.

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"Been trying to call you tonight. Where've you
been?" "Oh, we just got home with a new car, about
ready to get to bed" "OK, talk to you in the morning."
And that was the end of the call.

Now, you have to remember, I come from Jewish
stock. Which means Jewish guilt.

Not 5 minutes later, the phone rings again. This
time, it's Grandma Irene. Mom's mom. No hello, no
"how are you"….and this is the conversation I had
with Grandma Irene:
ME: Hello?
GRANDMA: So, what's this I hear you get a new
car??
ME: Yes, just got home with it.
GRANDMA: So, you could tell Esther before you
told me?? Your own grandmother??
ME: Well, she was calling me when we got home.
GRANDMA: So, what kind of car did you get?
ME: A Pontiac

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GRANDMA: So, what'd you spend on this car? 3, 4
thousand dollars??

Money meant a great deal to Grandma, so she
wanted to be sure I got what I paid for…
ME: No, it was more like $11,000.
GRANDMA: WHAT?? For $11,000 you could buy
a Cadillac! You need a Cadillac!
ME: No, for $11,000 all you get is a Pontiac. For
$20,000 you get a Cadillac.

Oh, those days when a Cadillac was $20,000

GRANDMA: So, when am I gonna get to see this
new car?
ME: How bout if we come by tomorrow and take
you out for breakfast?
GRANDMA: Why tomorrow? What's wrong with
right now?
ME: Well, grandma, it's 10:30 on a Saturday night
and we're kinda tired. Let's do it tomorrow.

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GRANDMA: Let's do it tonight. I need to go to the
store.
ME: Grandma, what do you need at the store on a
Saturday night at 10:30??
GRANDMA: I need milk.
ME: Grandma, you don't like milk.
GRANDMA: I have a recipe.
ME: Now what kind of a recipe do you have that
you need milk on a Saturday night?
GRANDMA: LOOK! I need to go to the store!

So, we hop into our brand new off the
showroom floor Pontiac Phoenix to trot over to
Grandma's place, about 20 minutes or so from our
home. I park the car in the space closest to the senior
apartment complex door, go up to the 2nd floor
where Grandma lived. By now it's about 11:00.
Grandma opens the door...

Because of her age and other issues, she
doesn't walk to the elevator, she shuffles. So after

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about 20 minutes of her shuffling and down to the
car, it's probably close to 11:30.

We get to the car, I open the door for her, she
its on the passenger seat and rubs her hand over the
dashboard as though she was giving it the white love
test…and then gets out and starts to go back upstairs.
ME: Grandma, where are you going? I thought you
had to go to the store.
GRANDMA: For what??
ME: You said you needed milk.
GRANDMA: Milk?? At midnight? On a Saturday
night?? I don't like milk!

ME: You said you had a recipe.
GRANDMA: Now what kind of a recipe would I
have that needs milk on a Saturday night??

It seems I'd heard that earlier that night,
somewhere….

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So as Grandma gets out of the car and we
exchange these little "pleasantries"…. she slaps her
hands together as if she were dusting them off,
saying:

"Esther heard about the car first… I got to see
it first"

For those of you who might be familiar with
scenes like this, you know how important it was for
Grandma Irene to be the first in the family at
something…even as minor as seeing a car before
Esther did.

Grandma's been gone now for 29 years. I miss
that woman. I loved her with my total being.

My new Cadillac is named "Irene" in her
memory, and in her honor.

Grandma Irene is my co-pilot.

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We decided, after looking at a lot of cars, on a
Datsun Maxima station wagon. We chose this,
because of the Datsun name, the room, the standard
accessories that would have cost more as options on
another car, and after we made our decision, we looked
at our finances: Zero to put down on a car, and not
enough equity in the Pontiac to be used as a down
payment. Solution: lease. And lease, we did, and
on December 1, 1982, we took delivery on a beautiful
brown Datsun Maxima Station Wagon that was the
nicest looking station wagon we had ever seen. It had

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real sleek lines, plenty of room, a sunroof, AM-FM
stereo cassette player. just everything. We signed a
5-year lease that ends in December 1987, when we will
be forced to go out and get another car.

As I write, the car has 68,000 miles on it, and looks
fabulous. Back in 1984, though, while I was bowling,
someone came by and stole all the hubcaps (wire
wheel, $75 apiece) and took a sharp instrument and
scratched the hell out of the car. I took it to the
insurance company and after 10 minutes of examining
it, was told to take it to Mickey's Paint and Auto Body
in Canoga Park. I was allowed about $1,500 for its
repair, and have a feeling it was a little over bid,
because ole' Mickey said that the allowance was
enough to give the car a 2-toned paint job if I wanted.
Well, I did. The car was painted dark brown on top
and the upper portion of the body. and metallic beige
underneath. The car looked showroom fresh, and still
does. It will be a major part in its trade in value come

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December. The next car?

When the lease was up in December, 1987, Mom
and I decided to look into the purchase of an American
made car, and since I wanted something a little bigger,
we went to Crossroads Chevrolet in North Hollywood,
and after some haggling, we drove off in a 1986
Celebrity station wagon. It was off the showroom

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floor, dark burgundy in color with burgundy velour
interior and the car was totally loaded, with power
everything, probably even had a bidet in it, but we
were just not able to find it. We drove that car until
1995, probably the longest I have ever kept a car, with
over 125,000 miles on it. The transmission went, big
time (what is it with me and cars that lose their
transmission??) and we sold the car to a family who
loved the car and could fix the transmission. We got
$1200 for that car, and then bought a 1990 Geo Prizm.
It looks like a white Toyota Corolla, and it's
comfortable, and seems to be just fine for what I need.
It has full power, a 4-door sedan, and, unlike the first
cars I have owned, has a CD player in it.

The next car, should there be one, I would like to
be a brand-new Saturn. We shall see. I’ll keep you
posted.

OK, fast forward beyond the Geo Prizm.
Next up, the 1986 Subaru station wagon.

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When the Geo went to meet its maker, I bought
a neighbor’s car, the 1986 Subaru Wagon. It was a cute
little car, got good mileage, and all I really needed it
for was transportation. Nothing fancy, it served its
purpose. I had that for a couple years as I recall. I was
single by that time and needed another car. The lady 2
doors down had to get rid of the car and she sold it to
me for $600. She needed to sell, I needed to buy.

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My mom had a 1996 Ford Taurus that
was by far the ugliest car I had ever seen. Back then, it
had all the features you would want in a car...available

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at that time. She owned the car for a few years when
she decided it was time to buy a new one. I think that
was after she had started dating Art. He had a big ole’
Oldsmobile and it was time for him to get something
else, too, so together, they bought a new Buick
LaCrosse, and mom offered to sell me the Taurus. I
took her up on it, made a few payments before she
gifted the balance of the loan to me.

The car was this putrid color called “Rose Mist”
which changed colors depending on the light...purple
in one light, rose in another. I thought it was hideous
so not long after I bought it, I had it painted white. As
you can see by the pictures above, that was a wise
move.

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When the Taurus started showing its age, it was
time for me to get something else. I really liked Art’s
new Buick so that’s what I shopped for. I couldn’t
afford it so after shopping around, I found “Carmax”
in Burbank. They had a 2007 Buick LaCrosse with
only 4,000 miles on it. Art and I went to look at it; it
was Dark Metallic Blue, really a beautiful car, low
mileage, and they wanted just over $19,000 for it, just
a couple hundred dollars over blue book. Art said I’d

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be a fool to pass it up.
I intended to pay cash for it but since the banks

were closed, I filled out their little credit application
for their own financing and I was able to drive the car
off, leaving the Ford Taurus behind.

I was able to pay off the loan within the 30 days
they gave me with no finance charge, and the Buick
was mine. I drove around in that car for about 3 years
or so when on one bright sunshiny day, I was
broadsided while making a left turn by a lady who ran
the red light and hit me as I executed my turn. Luckily
witnesses verified that she had gone through the red
light, so I was not held accountable. The car was
totaled, and my beautiful Buick was no more.

Her insurance paid me $18,000 for the car when 3
years earlier I paid $19,000 so I was okay with that.
The amount they paid also included my injuries which
were minor, but it allowed me to move on and get
something else.

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DEAR CHILDREN Those Hot Rods

I had fallen in love with that car, so the only
natural thing was to replace it with another LaCrosse.
This time I bought new. I had a few bucks saved and
with the settlement from insurance, I was able to buy
a 2011 LaCrosse and not have to finance it.

That car was nothing but headaches. Within a
very short period of time, one thing after another had
me frowning on Buicks. The main thing was a
dashboard warning light that the car was overheating

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when in fact it wasn’t. As it turns out, it wasn’t the
overheating, but rather, a sensor that was faulty. In any
case, I couldn’t run the air conditioner. It was in the
shop for the same thing 6 times within 3 months, so I
contacted a lemon law attorney and the arranged for
General Motors to buy the car back for the price I paid
and when I got the check, I took the car back to the
dealer for the return and scheduled the pickup of my
new car later that day.

You’ll never guess what I bought:

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A 2012 Buick LaCrosse.
By now you’ve noticed the trend here: Buick
LaCrosse, Midnight Blue Metallic. I absolutely love
that color so why bother to change.
Everything was wonderful with that car and I’d
probably still have it today if I wasn’t so car crazy.
That car served me very well; it was sporty, elegant,
got good mileage and was fun to drive.
What made me get another one??
I took the car into the dealer for routine service,
and while I was at the dealership, I moseyed into the
showroom to bide my time. The showroom was
Woodland Hills Buick-Cadillac.
Cadillac. Grandma’s dream car for me to have.

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DEAR CHILDREN Those Hot Rods

As I was looking over these cars which I knew I
always wanted but could never afford, I felt safe. I
didn’t need or want a new car. I really didn’t.

“Can I show you something?” says the salesman.
“No, thanks, just waiting for my car to come out of
service.” I was standing in front of a 2013 Cadillac
XTS, pearl white (they do that on purpose, so you’ll
look). It was a beauty.
“I can get you a great deal on this.” That must be
the phrase they need to know before they graduate
from new car sales school. “No, thanks, not in the
market”

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“We’ve got some great promotions going on right
now and I can probably get you about $10,000
discount, if your credit is good.”

I never questioned my credit as it was always top
notch. But here I am in tattered blue jeans and t-shirt
and tennies. I hardly looked like the Cadillac kind of
guy.

I told him next time I buy a car it will be with my
Costco membership and it was a bit of a hassle to do.
He told me they were the only GM dealer in the valley
to accept the Costco discount.

This got me intrigued. Damnit.
I contacted Costco the next day and come to find
out they could get me a discount on the car through
Woodland Hills Cadillac.
I got my discount coupon from Costco and made
an appointment to go see the salesman.
The list price of this car was a touch over $72,000.
Let’s re-emphasize that: SEVENTY-TWO

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DEAR CHILDREN Those Hot Rods

THOUSAND DOLLARS. By time all the discounts,
incentives, promotions were applied, the final cost of
the car came to about $48,000.

“I can get you financing at 0% interest if your
credit is good and you qualify”. I was getting tired of
him speculating that my credit wasn’t good. Especially
the way I was dressed when he first met me.

“Tell me something: You keep mentioning about
my credit. Is there some reason you seem to believe I
wouldn’t qualify?” “No, but it IS a Cadillac, and it IS
expensive.” he says.

“Well, I’ll tell you what: If you can bring the price
of the car down to $32,000 with my trade, I’ll bring
you a cashier’s check tomorrow. I’ll just pay cash for
the car. How’s that? That way you won’t have to worry
about my credit...which by the way, is stellar...and
we’ll both be happy.”

I thought I was safe because no one is going to sell
a $72,000 car for $45,000.

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I knew this was coming: “I’ll have to review it with
the sales manager.” I knew I was safe, and I just saved
myself a ton of money.

“He accepted your offer.”
I didn’t know if I should cry out of sadness that I
just spent $45,000 or out of happiness because I just
bought my dream car.
Grandma got her wish and became my co-pilot.
I loved that Cadillac. It was beautiful, as most
Cadillacs are, and it was mine. All my life I wanted to
go into a car dealership and say, “that’s the one I want.
How much is it, and I’ll write you a check.”
I had that car for 4 years, with only 24,000 miles
on it. My mom fell in love with it. Everyone I knew
complimented me on it.
I had arrived. I owned a Cadillac. A Cadillac.
This was the car I bought right around the time I
married Carlos; it was only a week old when we got
married. This was the car that took us on our

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“honeymoon” as we went to San Diego.
In style.
Over the years, though, the car was in the shop it

seemed more than it was in my driveway. Minor
things, but annoying.

One day in the mail I received a solicitation from
a lemon law attorney...and oddly enough, the same one
I hired for the Buick a few years before. I called them
and reminded them who I was, and they remembered.
I told them of the issues I was having with the Cadillac,
and they said that if I have all the paperwork for all the
repairs maybe they could help me get a buy-back.

I did, and they did.
Sadly, after 4 year of ownership with this beautiful
car, it was time to say goodbye to Irene. It was fun
while it lasted but like everything, all good things must
come to an end.
Back to another dealership. Any guesses what I
ended up with??

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A 2017 Buick LaCrosse, Midnight Blue Metallic!
Here we are in 2020, and I still drive it. It only has
8,700 miles on it after 3 years of driving it. In our
senior years, we just don’t do the driving we used to.

I love this car. I love this car. And I won’t stray
from the color. Every Buick LaCrosse I have owned is
Midnight Blue Metallic.

That just might be it for cars. I don’t drive much,
and I don’t want the “buying” hassle.

Or the credit questions.

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DEAR CHILDREN On A Personal Note

On A Personal Note

I have some personal things to write about, and
depending on who gets to read this book, will
determine if the chapter is left in. These thoughts are
nothing more than things I want you to know about
me, that couldn’t find their way into any other chapter.
This is my free time.

Throughout our lifetimes, there have been, there
are, and there will be many things each of us holds

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extremely private and personal, and I urge you
children to be especially sensitive to those things
others hold private. People will trust your
confidentiality as long as you don't betray them. When
you are told something in private or in secrecy. you
will be expected, not only by your mother and me, but
other friends and acquaintances, to keep such secrets
to yourselves. Whoever has told you something in
private trusts you implicitly and would not have told
you unless they considered you to be a special friend
and moral citizen.

I hope as you continue to grow, if you find the need
to share a secret with someone, no matter who it is,
that you find a friend trusting enough to be able to talk
to and to trust. I have been very lucky in my life that
I have been able to share personal thoughts with
special people.

In another chapter of this book, you read briefly
about the friendship I had with a next-door neighbor.

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DEAR CHILDREN On A Personal Note

Jim, I hesitated in writing about this, but I am told I
should for several reasons, to share a secret with those
closest to me, and perhaps for therapy.

Jim and I became close friends because of his
living next door, our common interest in music (see
Music section), our ages., our school; actually a lot of
things that 17-year olds may have in common. One
thing we did not share, though. were our sexual
preferences. Jim was gay.

I was a somewhat naive youngster. and I guess in
my adult ways, still am, but back then I didn't know
gay from a spoon. (You see why this chapter is called
“Personal”?) I don't even remember if the term “gay”
was even used then; I suppose it was, but I just wasn't
part of it, so I didn't know. So, call me stupid.
Anyway, as I was cultivating a friendship. Jim was
cultivating his own friendship and unbeknownst to me,
becoming friendlier and friendlier, if only in his mind.

I thought nothing of spending time with him alone,

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DEAR CHILDREN On A Personal Note

or with others around. We were friends, and that was
that.

I wasn't even aware of Jim's homosexuality during
high school because we always double dated. each of
us with girlfriends we liked very much. He went with
a girl named Wanda, and I was going with a girl named
Jean Marshburn. Not once did I suspect him of going
out with girls just for show. See how dumb I was?
We had gone on dates together, taken our girlfriends
home together, went for coffee together; he was just
the kind of friend I needed, and I was the friend he
needed. As I mentioned before, friends are very
important in anyone's life.

Even when Jim enrolled in a beauty school In
Reseda, it never dawned of me (not that all
hairdressers are gay) that he was homosexual. Looking
back, I can't believe that I didn't know (but I didn't).
When he was feeling low, I would talk to him. When
he hurt, I was there. I thought nothing of spending the

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