There is a scene in National Lampoon’s classic movie Vacation where Clark Griswald, played by Chevy Chase, in preparation for the big family trip, visits his neighborhood auto dealership to pick up his new car. Clark complains, “This isn’t the car I ordered. I distinctly ordered the Antarctic Blue Super Sports Wagon with the C.B. and optional rally fun pack.” Ed, the salesman, replies, “You didn’t order the metallic pea?” Clark soon returns home piloting the green Wagon Queen Family Truckster, and the rest of the story is comic history, with the station wagon front and center.
The Great American Station Wagon became a symbol of family life in America in the second half of the 20th century. Descended from commercial vehicles of the '20s and '30s, specifically the De pot Hack, station wagons came of age after World War II. With the dawning of suburban life and the Baby Boomer generation, the station wagon found its place. Surf culture and the Beach Boys furthered the popularity of the station wagon in the early ‘60s. There’s nothing cooler than an old woody at the beach.
Station wagons continued in popularity until the oil embargo of 1973 and resulting gas crisis. Soon came the mini-van, and then the now ubiquitous SUV. These societal changes resulted in the death of the station wagon. But we can remember… If you survived the 70s, there is a good chance your family drove a station wagon. My parents did not own a Wagon Queen Family Truckster, but in the summer of 1972 they brought home a used baby blue 1963 Plymouth Belvedere Station Wagon with a Zig Zag decal on the back window. The decal always struck me as funny, because apparently my parents were unaware of the cultural significance of this small detail (I think the previous owners probably went through a lot of Zig Zag papers rolling doobies). So began our life with a station wagon.
We had opted for a Plymouth station wagon. As a boy, I could never quite grasp my parents’ fondness for Mopar products. When in need of another used car (for my mom), they invariably drove home a Dodge or a Plymouth. And these cars always seemed to be plagued with mechanical issues. My dad drove a ’57 Chevy pickup, which ran like a sewing machine with nary a problem. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why we just didn’t stick with Chevys. Perhaps it was the charm of the ever-present push-button automatic transmission, the small beady headlights, or the reverse-thread lug nuts on driver’s side wheels (yes, this was a real thing – try changing a tire without this bit of automotive knowledge). Our Plymouth had all of these. If not entirely reliable, it was a practical car during my early teen years at home, though a bit uncool to drive. It was a good thing that it died before I entered my dating years.
One thing that did consistently work well on our station wagon was the AM radio. I still well remember my mom listening to Buck Owens, Charley Pride, and Donna Fargo on the local country western station as we drove to school in the mornings. And our wagon had plenty of room. It was great for hauling steer feed. We were a 4-H family, and we raised beef cattle. Our steers ate a lot, so on the way home from school we would stop at Star Milling to fill the back of our wagon with sacks of grain. Our Plymouth was a good 4-H car.
I do have many fond memories of our old blue station wagon. I remember a visit one December evening to a Christmas tree lot in a neighboring town. In the cold we picked out our tree, tied it to the top of the old Plymouth, and drove home through the dark night to celebrate Christ’s birth.
If you grew up with a station wagon, know that you were fortunate enough to experience a bit of automotive history. You might want to share this with your family when dinner conversation lags. Like pioneer veterans of the Oregon Trail who probably remembered and related their adventures in a Conestoga Wagon to their grandchildren years later, old folks of today can recount to their descendants memories of loading up in the family station wagon to go buy shoes at Sears. Those were the days…
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