The launch of Auto Enthusiast Network got me thinking about my first car. In high school, the cool cars were Mustang GT, Camaro IROC, and even the Honda Accord — when they made a coupe, hatchback, and sedan — my school was kinda fancy. My first car wasn’t cool or fancy, it was a 1964 Buick Skylark, and I loved it.
Thankfully, I grew up in a family with a car-loving dad. He would always joke, “I wanted to get a ’38 Buick but spent the money on getting braces for your sister instead.” My dad shaped my career and hobby for decades by doing simple father/son things. He took me to the drag races in Long Beach, Orange County, and Sacramento. We went to the Autorama several times, and he would bring home tons of new car brochures when it came time for a new family car – a Buick Estate Wagon. So, fitting I guess that my first car was a Buick.
Hand Me Down Buick
My car was kind of a hand-me-down from my grandparents. They gave it to my brother, but he sold it to me for $300 several years later. Notice I said “sold” it to me – nice brother.
In fairness, my brother rebuilt the engine with some buddies at the local Chevron station, so he did spend some money on it before I got it.
My Skylark had the optional 300-cubic-inch V8 (4.9L) and, thankfully, was a two-door. That engine made 210 hp. It felt like more — a lot more. Those Skylark coupes still look cool, they seem to sit lower and appear to have a wider stance than the sedans. I also like them better than the more popular Pontiac and Chevy models, which share the same underlying platform. I have a soft spot for the Oldsmobile F-85 as well.
In 1964, the Buick Special and the Buick Skylark received a complete redesign. The car grew to an intermediate size, and both the Special and Skylark looked very similar. The Skylark was the more upscale of the two with upgraded cloth on the seats, better interior trim, frameless windows, more chrome trim, no B-pillar, a cool Buick logo in the center of the front grille, and nicely detailed taillights. Today, we would just call these trim levels. Then, it made them separate models
I wouldn’t give that time back for anything. There were earnest young girls, greasy burritos, good music, and fast cars. — Brian Moody
I’ve had many cars since then, but that Skylark really sticks with me. I spent so many hours driving around Roseville, California, in that car. Sometimes with friends, occasionally with a high-school girlfriend, and very often alone. I didn’t have the money for any kind of car stereo, so I put a General Electric boom box in the back seat. I’d reach back and drop in a cassette tape and just drive around. Besides, the AM radio had the letters B-U-I-C-K spelled out on the push-button station selector; I couldn’t get rid of that fantastic vintage touch.
Moreover, what money I earned working at this wonky restaurant, Mr. Steak, I spent on essential things like dual exhaust with Thrush mufflers or moon hubcaps and whitewall tires. I thought I was especially cool because I put a “KHYL” radio station sticker in the back window. That was the oldies station in my hometown. I don’t know why I thought it was cool; I didn’t even listen to oldies. Well, not that much.
Cruising to Nowhere
Sunrise Blvd, Douglas Blvd, Hazel Ave, Folsom Blvd – I must have crisscrossed these streets thousands of times. A group of us had some pretty cool cars. One guy had an ’80s Nissan hardbody pickup, another a ’55 Chevy, and another guy with a really good job had a ’73 Charger with a 440. It was outfitted with two four-barrel Holley carbs on top of a huge tunnel ram manifold.
Late at night, we’d pull up to a stoplight in the middle of nowhere, and someone would push the pedestrian crossing button. In about 60 seconds, the light would change to green, and we’d have an impromptu drag race. My Buick’s 210 horsepower and two-barrel Rochester carb were no match. Even the ’55 could beat me since the guy had a built-up small-block V8.
One day, a new guy to the group showed up with a ’65 Rambler — I could beat him. The Rambler had a straight-six. I didn’t mind losing so much, though, I liked the Skylark better than the other cars anyway.
I would listen to my sweet “audio system” on the way home — INXS, The Smiths, The Boomtown Rats, Tom Petty — while singing aloud and trying to solve the world’s problems along the way. Well, maybe just my own problems.
It nearly worked. Driving with the windows down on those warm Northern California evenings, I thought I could speed my way to a better life. Sometimes I’d make it all the way to the foothills with nothing more than a quarter tank of gas and a ‘Till Tuesday cassette.
As I’d turn around and head back down Highway 50, I could see the valley, the delta, and the nuclear power plant. It looked like a huge scale model playset. All I could think about was, “There’s gotta be more than just this.”
Editor Note: I’d like to thank Brian Moody for contributing this column to AEN. He is certainly a busy man, and I truly appreciate him taking the time to take us along on his ride down memory lane!
