It is interesting the dialogue I’ve provoked with my last entry on Bucky. Everything from people wanting more family history to comments that the article was too short. I will try to fill in some of the blanks. Today some frivolity with cars.
First, my Uncle Bob Andrews says that his brother Bucky got the name from his Grampa Elmer Andrews. “Rumor was that Bucky was somewhat reluctant to follow orders and requests”. He “bucked” the system. No! Certainly none of his kids or grandchildren have that characteristic. They always said that my brother Jack was a “bullhead” taking after my mother’s side of the family. Maybe not. Maybe he took after my dad.
The Andrews family seems to have a propensity for fine automobiles. Chris’ house is like a parking lot: 2 Saabs, GMC truck, an old suburban that allegedly has been in for painting for two years and I’ll throw in the boat. Debs went from a Nissan truck to a Ford truck to a boss Dodge Ram. Kelly really wants the BMW but has settled for a Passat and a Mazda Milleniun. Paul dreams of used BMW’s. Margaret is suddenly into great sound systems with a Honda attached. First choice was a Mini Cooper. Even Ryan Eisenhardt bought a used Beemer. What is this fetish with fine automobiles?
Well Bucky wasn’t any different. We didn’t always have food on the table, but we had a continued parade of cars.
The first car I remember was a used 1936 Ford Roadster with a “rumble seat”. There was a trunk that opened into an outdoor seat for two. All I remember was that it cold. It was supposed to be romantic. I was too young to test that theory.
Then a used 1938 Chrysler Aero that was a classic. It had a long tapored back and was supposed to go fast. I was a kid. What did I know?
After the War in 1945 there were no new cars being produced because all factories had been used for jeeps, tanks and aircraft. You will not see any 1941,1942,1943,1944, or 1945 models of anything. Bucky picked up a Model T Ford “putt putt” truck with a wooden box on the back. Why? I don’t know why! It was 20 years old. You had to crank it to start it and the accelerator was on the column. You could break you arm cranking especially as the engine engaged. We would park in on the Stafford street hill and to start it we would let it roll down the hill and pop the clutch. It was a piece of shit.
Next was a used 1938 Cadillac. A classic Brown. Gorgeous. Just what every struggling family needs.
Then soon after it was a choice between a classic Cord manufactured in Germany (very sporty for it’s time) or a used Cadillac. It was the newer Cadillac. I don’t remember the year but it had the first Cadillac rear fins with elevated tail lights. You had to lift the rear light to find the gas cap. I’d like to say 1940 vintage but I’m not sure. Actually after we bought it we kept wishing we’d hung on to the 1938 Cadillac.
The first new car was a 1949 Ford Wood Bodied Station Wagon. Paul would call it a “grocery getter”. My dad kept working his way out of sexy classic cars by having more kids. Chris understands the drill. The Ford was eventually repossessed by the loan company. Bucky was between jobs at the time. Long story!
Then it was a used 1950 Oldsmobile four door. He had it lowered in the back to make it look sexy and then put on dual exhaust hollywood mufflers with enhancing tailpipe echo devices. It snorted. Just what a family man with 4 kids should have.
Around this time, Bucky’s high school buddy, Carl Kuhlow, was racing stock cars at the Plymouth Fair Grounds. Carl would battle Miles Milieus every year for the championship. Quarter mile dirt track. Lots of slipping and sliding and the best cars always started at the back of the pack. We’d go every Saturday night. Carl Kuhlow would fix his cars during the week several blocks from the City Club. My dad and I visited often. You haven’t lived until you sit in chopped up stock car with a big engine and running without a muffler. I did. Scary for a kid. Also kind of macho.
1955 brought a our second new car. A simple Plymouth four door with stick shift. Pea green color. I took my drivers test with the Plymouth. I stalled it twice on the way to the testing. I think Bucky used the words Jesus Christ.
The final car was a 1956 black and white Dodge four door. You punched in the proper gear with little pushbuttons mounted in a panel left of the steering column. Great looking car with fins. When Bucky died we ended up selling it because we needed the money.
He helped my with my cars. My first car was a 1947 Olds straight backed “tank” that had the first hydromatic. The straight eight engine roared and it went no where. Here is the story though. My dad thought a converitble would be fun. So he traded my Olds for a 1951 Olds convertible without my permission. He had to add a little money. So now, was it my car or not? Your mother and I got to spend 2-3 high school years with a cool convertible. My mother, Alice, drove that car until the top blew off sometime in early 60’s.
Now I don’t know if the fetish for automobiles is inherited or not but I see lots of evidence of it. Maybe it just brain damage. I know it is fun.
I guess if I want to leave a final impression, Bucky had a fun side. He was always a little boy at heart. I see a little of that in his offspring.
Love,
Dad