Monday, October 15, 2012



The scene is from near June Lake California.
The boulder is one of those fascinating balancing acts of nature.
The sign reminds me of a miserable cold time in childhood
when I heard my dad use unusual words as he 
wrestled with twisted and rusted chains on a bitter cold night when we were driving home in the old Buick Roadmaster. 
Photo Courtesy of
Hard to imagine a beast like the Roadmaster not
having traction.
We had 4-door model, large enough that
when we made our trips to Colorado, my brother John and I had what was almost a "room" in the back seat.  He had a bed on the seat and I had a full cot that fit between the front and back seat and still left room for our legs when we were just sitting.
I guess with a car that heavy, you want to make sure you get traction. Snow tires came after the old Roadmaster
was retired.  
BTW-Since our move to California, we have avoided those higher elevations where as the sign says
"chains are required."
But I'd love to have that old Roadmaster.
See you down the trail.


  1. Tom,

    Your Dad was a Buick man, eh?

    Loved those straight 8's with Dynaflow transmissions...the old Dynaflow was the grandpa of today's modern CVT transmissions. Great cars with "Body by Fischer". Stuart Mott is still spending the money!

    Jan and I were in Maine and stopped by Martha's Pies, a little roadside coffee shop in the middle on nowhere on our way to Mt. Baxter. Parked outside was a '53 Buick Century convertible, pale yellow with green and yellow interior. The owner walked out and we chatted a little. I asked him to turn on the "Wonderbar" AM radio and after it warmed up I realized the old AM radios from the 50's made AM sound like FM! One of the guys from Delco told me once that if a car radio costs 100 bucks to build about 2 dollars is invested in the AM wonder AM is virtually gone!

  2. Bob-
    I remember that radio feature. They did sound "big and rich". Massive body, but man did they have space and as I recall they were comfortable.

  3. I see by the hood that yours was a four-holer. My mother drove a three-holer. And she would spot were she left the car in the parking lot by counting the holes in the hood. We were lucky. We never got into the wrong car.
    Out mother was a cautious driver in her three-hole Buick. She always watched out for the other drivers. One passed her and caught back bumper to her front bumper and dragged her into a light post. Out mother explained she was an old-dame teacher. She got out and looked at the wreck, pronouncing just as in the elementary classroom, "Oh, OH~! Look, Look. Damn, Damn."
    That is the way that story went into the books. -w-

  4. That Roadmaster was a beauty. Must have weighed as much as a Sherman tank.