The Roadmaster: 1. Memories and the Challenge
It’s winter of 2001. The family piles into the car to go for a drive! It’s not as long as the drive to my cousins, but it’s longer than the drive to SeaWorld. A bit longer than the drive to Big Bear? It should be four hours. There we go, that’s what I wanted to know.
We can see the new California Adventure park at Disneyland, it should be opening soon. We run along the shore, where we see the great big Marine helicopters patrolling the coast. It gets dark before we get to San Diego, and I can barely see out my window the fresh snow covering the mountain pass. Then the long, straight dark stretch of highway. If only we left earlier, I could watch the dune buggies on their trailers around us. Finally the highway turns to cross the Colorado River into Yuma, Arizona. We made it!
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When I was young my grandparents and great-grandparents had a trailer in Yuma where they would snowbird away from the Utah backcountry. It was a lovely place where I remember visiting them the most. I’d ride my bike around their little neighborhood, help tend to my grandpa’s lemon trees and their little dogs, and my favorite part of all, I got to ride in the front middle of the bench seat of my Grandma Newton’s all-maroon Buick Roadmaster. That car took us all over creation, from the Yuma Territorial Prison to the prime rockhounding hills to the Cracker Barrel at the end of the night. I was thrilled to visit, and the ever-warm velvety Grandma’s Feather Bed On Wheels was the highlight of the trip for me. The glow of the radio, the ping of the turn signal, and the love of family were all written together in my memory.
As life takes its course, my grandparents belongings were being settled, and I declared that if no one else was willing or able to take the car, I would. My uncle was thrilled, and gave me the history of the Roadmaster:
My Great-Grandpa Newton was a GM Man, which meant he drove GM trucks at the ranch and he drove Buicks in the city. He owned a Wildcat and a Skylark and a Le Sabre, and a variety of capable trucks. He and my great grandma loved to travel, taking trips all the way down to Baja California, Sonora and as far as Mexico City. But for my great grandma, nothing could compare to the beautiful Roadmaster they owned in the postwar years. That was the only car she loved. So in 1992, Buick announced they would reintroduce the Roadmaster, and my Grandma and Grandpa Newton immediately went to pick out the one for them. Just as in yesteryear, the new model was perfect, and they could enjoy their final years touring around.
Now, I have taken upon myself the role of steward of the car. To report: it starts, but just barely, and usually the loping idle kills the engine. But, I have started the process of isolating problems and addressing causes. With a trusty Haynes manual and the good help of friends and family, I will get this car back to its floaty boaty Mastery of the Road.
My goal with the Roadmaster is to get it running smoothly. Get it clean and looking nice. And drive it one more time to Yuma, Arizona. I feel like this is the full-circle closure that the car and I need. This gives me a reason to go out and see this place from my distant memory and share the experience with my young family. Then this time maybe on our way home, we can stop at the beach in San Diego.
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I intend in the Roadmaster chapters of the blog to report on my workdays, hopefully more explanations, reasoning and pictures. However, this car has led me to a lot of introspection which has fired an impassioned raison d’etre. I want to share some of my thoughts and most importantly, my goal, with this blog of accountability. I expect, as with all passion projects, this will go very smoothly and according to plan.
— Adam
A vision of what can be
