I Was There (Sort Of): An Epic Cross-Country Journey In "Lulu", My Family's 1936 Buick Special Convertible

I guess most all of us have heard our parents tell stories time and again that eventually end up becoming a big part of family lore. As I was growing up, I heard one such story quite often about a trip that took place during 1946 and, in full disclosure, it was just prior to this trip that my mother learned she was pregnant with me. In a sense, I was there.

To me, it’s worth sharing since it’s common knowledge these days that a fair number of vintage car owners are unfortunately reluctant to drive their cars too far from the barn for fear of a breakdown. My parents, Harrell and Mary, had no such fears. They were married in October of 1944. Shortly after my father was discharged from the Army in 1945, they purchased a 1936 Buick Special convertible coupe that they affectionately called Lulu. This Buick was painted black and sported dual side-mount spare tires and a Carson top. Inside were maroon leather seats. In my mind, Lulu wore an attractive color combination.

In August 1946 they decided to take an eight-week driving trip east from their home in Los Angeles, California, to see several distant sights and visit relatives along the way. Prior to the trip, my father overhauled the Buick’s straight-eight engine and had four Firestone retread tires mounted. Keep in mind that this was just after World War II when new tires were still hard to come by. As it turned out, my Aunt Sally—who also had relatives “back east”—was invited to go with my parents. If you’ve ever sat in a Thirties coupe, you know that two people fit nicely, but three is somewhat of a squeeze... especially with a floor shift in the middle. Imagine traveling like that cross-country with luggage.

They began the journey on what we now nostalgically call “old Route 66,” but back then—with nary a hint of the interstate highway system built—it was one of the main east-west ribbons of pavement through the Southwest. The trio first drove Lulu from Los Angeles to the Kingman, Arizona, area where they jumped off to see the splendor of the Grand Canyon. From there, they turned north into Utah and made stops at Zion and Bryce Canyon National Parks. Next on the sightseeing list was Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming, after which the Buick was turned east once again, this time towards my father’s roots in Southern Illinois.

After visiting relatives in Illinois, my parents and aunt headed into Indiana, where the Buick finally gave them a bit of trouble. They had just arrived in Versailles, Indiana, when my father started hearing funny noises coming from the differential. Like many other places back in 1946, Versailles was a small town with very limited services that catered to travelers, but they were able to find a hotel with rooms available. Once settled in, my father began to work on the Special. Using nothing more than the basic jack normally used to change tires, my father was able to lift Lulu onto some blocks he had found. With just enough clearance, he crawled underneath to see what the problem was, and soon determined that the carrier bearings in the differential had self-destructed.

Three years without civilian automobile production meant the number of spare parts had become depleted; car owners did what they could to keep what amounted to a nation of used cars in running order. Coupled with the unfortunate fact that there were no garages or auto parts suppliers available in Versailles, my father hatched a plan. My mother and aunt would take a Greyhound bus to Cincinnati, Ohio, and my father would take another bus in the opposite direction to North Vernon, Indiana. If either found any carrier bearings, they would buy them. As it turned out, they each found only one bearing—just enough to get the job done.

With the new bearings in hand, my father found a local blacksmith in Versailles who was able to remove the damaged parts and install the new replacements. After returning to the hotel parking lot, my father installed the repaired carrier into the Buick’s differential while lying in puddles of water—it was pouring rain. When finished, my mother washed his clothes in the hotel room’s sink (laundromats as we now know them did not yet exist) and they were finally on the road the next day, hanging a few clothes out the window to dry as they drove.

With the bad bearings in the rearview mirror, their trip continued in Lulu to Niagara Falls, New York, where my mother had been born, before they took a brief jaunt up into Ontario, Canada. Scooting back into New York, the trek east finished in Boston, Massachusetts, and—after a little sightseeing there—they turned the convertible west. The long journey home took them through New York City and eventually into Kentucky, after which they turned south and went to Chattanooga, Tennessee. Logic would have you think my parents and aunt then went west again, but they first went south to Dallas/Ft. Worth, Texas, before heading towards Las Vegas, which was then still a one-horse town. From there, it was on to Los Angeles.

In total, my parents drove Lulu the Buick 8,019 miles, all on mostly rudimentary two-lane roads, and the only trouble they ran into were failed carrier bearings. Interestingly, those recapped tires my father had mounted made the entire trip without suffering a single puncture or failure.

My parents’ journey in Lulu begs a question: If you overhauled the engine and put retread tires on your antique car from the Thirties, Forties or Fifties, would you attempt any hint of a cross-country trip with it? Even though it’s been done— and this can’t be the only such occurrence—most of us wouldn’t consider it today. But that’s what life was like just after World War II: retread tires, lack of mechanical parts, two-lane roads, and a very sparsely populated Western United States. This trip proved the reliability of these cars and the resiliency of the people who drove them. The cars were built to be driven and were easy to maintain. And I was there… sort of.