Uncle Ray's Oldsmobile

As a child of the sixties I was as caught up in the world of muscle cars, dragsters, and customized cars as anyone else, though I was neither mechanically adept nor able to afford to indulge my automotive fantasies. In high school I could drool at the ’57 and ’58 Chevys or the chopped and channeled classics from the Forties that I saw on the streets, but I drove my parents’ family Bel Aire.

Before I reached that age of auto awareness, as a boy and a tween, cars weren’t large on my horizon. Give me a good horse anytime. The exception to that was Uncle Ray’s Oldsmobile.

It must have been late in the fall of 1958, when the 1959 models were introduced. I remember my uncle’s farmyard was a sloppy, muddy mess just beyond the lawn and driveway, and that the day will chilly even though the sun was shining. At was a family get-together of some kind; I don’t recall the specific occasion, but since it was in the afternoon it was probably a Sunday.

Everyone was there – aunts, uncles, cousins – except favorite uncle Ray and his family. Most everyone had a plate of food in their laps, the men in the kitchen where they could also have a shot of something strong and the women in the living room. Cousins were where ever we could find a spot.

Suddenly Uncle Ray, Aunt Norma and our cousins, Laurette and Brenda, came through the kitchen door from the porch, all smiles and how-are-you and sorry-we’re-late. They took off their coats and Ray got hugs from each of his numerous sisters. Plates were filled and they joined the party.

A bit later Ray asked for everyone’s attention, saying he had something to show them – outside. Uncles trooped along behind Ray, aunts followed and cousins tore out the front door and around the house to get there first. And then we saw it.

Gleaming from huge chrome bumper to huge chrome bumper was a brand-new 1959 Oldsmobile two-door hardtop. It was brilliant white, with a light purple (maybe lavender or lilac) band that began narrowly at the front fender and raced all the way to the taillights, becoming a little wider at the rear.

The interior was soft white leather with purple accents – carpeting, dash, door inserts, etc., etc. I remember thinking it was the most beautiful car I’d ever seen. Maybe the most beautiful there ever could be. And it had an engine that roared like a dragster when Ray got in a fired it up for the uncles. I remember him beaming behind the wheel.

The Olds was the first new car of his life. I have no idea whether he stretched his pocketbook inside out to buy it. Whatever the case, he was proud of that car. So were my aunt and cousins. There were rides around the mile-square block for all who wanted one. What an experience.

Later in the afternoon, after the scotch in the kitchen had dulled some sensitivities, I remember a couple of my older uncles – men who were more established than Ray in their life’s work – began to question whether he could afford the car. What was he thinking, a car like that. It’s all flash; no one needs a car like that.
Young as I was, I could see the effect those comments had on Uncle Ray. They had deflated him pretty effectively. Usually the life of any family party, he took his own family home early that day. And young as I was, I learned a lesson from that experience.

The world is full of wonderful things I’ve never had and will never have – luxury cars, a beach house, travel and so on. But much as I might like them, I’ve never begrudged anyone else those things. I’ll never own the most beautiful car in the world, but Uncle Ray did. Good for him. And if you get one someday, good for you.