Mine Was a $75 Buick Convertible with One Tiny Problem.
Part of The American Time Capsule — preserving the people, places, products, traditions, and everyday moments that shaped growing up in America before the digital age.
This article explores the cars, highways, road trips, and adventures that made the open road part of the American dream.
Your first car wasn’t just another automobile.
It represented freedom.
It meant no longer asking your parents for rides, planning your own adventures, and discovering what it felt like to own something you had worked and paid for yourself.
Most of us never forget that first set of wheels.
No matter how unreliable it may have been.
Almost everyone remembers their first car.
Not because it was the nicest.
Usually because it wasn’t.
Your first car wasn’t just transportation.
For many of us, that freedom came long before smartphones or GPS, during an era remembered in Life Before Smartphones.
It was freedom.
You could go where you wanted.
When you wanted.
As long as you could afford the gas and the insurance.
For me, that moment came in 1966 when I turned seventeen.
Mom had one rule.
If I wanted a car, I had to pay for it myself.
Insurance too.
Fortunately, I had a job.
So the search began.
The $75 Convertible
One afternoon I spotted an ad in the newspaper.
1956 Buick Special Convertible
Price:
$75.
Back then, finding a bargain often meant scanning the classified ads or hearing about it through friends—part of the everyday America celebrated throughout our Nostalgia collection.
Even in 1966 that seemed unbelievably cheap.
I called immediately.
The owner explained there was one problem.
“The steering is frozen.”
“It’ll cost more to fix than the car is worth.”
Most people probably thanked him and hung up.
I decided to go look anyway.
Love at First Sight
When I pulled up to the seller’s house, I honestly thought there had been some mistake.
Parked along the curb was one of the prettiest cars I’d ever seen.
Turquoise and white.
A brilliant white convertible top.
Chrome everywhere.
The interior looked almost new.
The back seat was so big you could have used it as a living room sofa.
This wasn’t a $75 junker.
This was a beautiful automobile.
Then I drove it.
Now I Understood
The seller wasn’t exaggerating.
The steering wheel felt like it had been welded in place.
Turning a corner required the upper-body strength of a professional wrestler.
Parking?
That became a full-body workout.
If you were moving straight ahead, everything was fine.
The moment you needed to actually steer…
Good luck.
Young and Dumb
Looking back today, a sensible person would have walked away.
Fortunately…
Seventeen-year-olds aren’t famous for making sensible decisions.
I bought it anyway.
And I loved every minute of it.
For the next two years I drove that Buick all over town.
Frozen steering.
Impossible parking.
And all.
I didn’t care.
It was my car.
Freedom Had Four Wheels
That Buick wasn’t perfect.
Far from it.
But it represented something much bigger than transportation.
Freedom.
Late-night drives.
Cruising with friends.
Those drives often had a soundtrack, with songs from artists like Micky Dolenz and The Monkees playing through the car radio, as explored in Mickey Dolenz: More Than Just a Monkee.
Dating.
Learning responsibility.
Buying your own gas.
Paying your own insurance.
Your first car wasn’t measured in horsepower.
It was measured in independence.
Some Memories Never Rust
I’ve owned much nicer cars since then.
Cars with power steering.
Air conditioning.
Fuel injection.
GPS.
Backup cameras.
Heated seats.
But none of them ever felt quite like that old turquoise-and-white Buick Special Convertible.
Funny how the first car you own never completely leaves you.
Maybe it isn’t really the car we remember.
Maybe it’s the seventeen-year-old behind the wheel.
It’s funny how one memory leads to another, whether it’s a first car, a favorite restaurant, or a Saturday morning in front of the television—ordinary moments that somehow became unforgettable.
So now it’s your turn.
What was your first car?
💬 Your Turn
Do you remember your very first car?
What was it? How much did you pay for it? Did you save for months to buy it, inherit it from your parents, or keep it running with duct tape and determination? Every first car has a story.
Share your first car memories in the comments below. We’d love to hear what you drove, where it took you, and the adventures you still remember.
📦 Continue Exploring Nostalgia
Our first cars gave us freedom, but they were only one part of growing up in America. Explore more memories from an era of road trips, family adventures, and unforgettable experiences.
- 🚗 The Trauma of the Driver’s Test
The longest fifteen minutes of every teenager’s life. - ✈️ The Day Dad Took Us Plane Watching
Sometimes the best childhood adventures didn’t cost much at all. - 🛫 Airports: Before We Had to Take Our Shoes Off
When flying was part of the adventure long before security lines and shoe removal. - 🍽️ Remember When Every Restaurant Had a Personality?
The diners, drive-ins, and neighborhood restaurants where memories were made.
← Return to 📦 Nostalgia
Bunker Rule
Everyone remembers their first car a little differently. Whether yours was a shiny dream machine or a rusty hand-me-down that barely made it around the block, we’d love to hear your story. Tell us what you drove, how you got it, where it took you, and the memories it created. Please keep the conversation friendly, respectful, and enjoyable for everyone reminiscing about the open road.
Bunker Notice
Nostalgia preserves the everyday moments that shaped growing up in America. Our first cars weren’t just machines—they were milestones. They represented freedom, responsibility, independence, and the excitement of discovering the world on our own terms. Whether it was a shiny dream car or a well-worn hand-me-down, that first set of keys unlocked memories that have stayed with us for a lifetime.