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Created by serious people just for fun . . .

The Boy, the Bike, and the Buick

By: Frank Starkes
This story is not about Thunderbirds, because it starts long before their birth. However, it does relate to cars and the interesting things that can happen when you attend Car Shows and talk to car people. In fact, this story begins in March, 1947, shortly after the end of World War II.

I am an energetic twelve year old boy, who had an old junker bike I purchased for $20.00 during the war years, and I wanted a new bike. Reading a comic book, I spotted an ad for an all new maroon and cream Monark bike. It had a fancy pedestal headlight, a spring front fork a large horn tank, a big luggage carrier, and a big chrome encased reflector on the back fender.
It even came with a free years Insurance Policy. Wow, was I ever excited to read about it, and I would lie in bed dreaming of owning and riding such a beautiful machine. Coming from a small town with only one bike shop, I knew this was way beyond my wildest dreams.

A month or so later, probably mid April, for some reason I had hitched-hiked into the city of Hudson, a three mile trip which a twelve year old boy normally wouldn’t have done. The reason if I had to guess, was to go to the local paper to sign up for a paper route. On my way back up through town I passed a store called Strauss Stores, a Chicago based automotive store similar to a Western Auto. Here, in the window was the beautiful Monark bike, just like the ad. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and ran right over to the store to inquire the price. $55.00 was the reply. My first introduction to sticker shock, as bikes at that time sold in the $26 to $35.00 range. I drooled and anguished over it for a bit, and decided I had to have that bike. I begged the store owner not to sell it until I could go home and get some money for a deposit; like people were standing in line to buy a $55.00 bike. What did a twelve year old kid know?

I hitched home, robbed every piggy bank and hiding place I had for some money, and hitched back the three miles to Hudson and gave the store owner what ever money I had. I don’t know if it was a few dollars or maybe even ten or fifteen, but I told him to put that bike in the back room, put my name on it, and that I would be in every week with money. As fast as I could earn it he would get it, and when I had paid the $55.00 I would ride it home. I doubt that I told my parents about this deal, as coming from a very conservative background, my father would have been a bit upset with me, but I guess I finally told them at some point before I got the bike.

On July 21st, 1947, I mowed a lawn and made the last dollar I needed. I came home, cleaned up a bit, hitched into Hudson with the last buck, and rode my new bike home in time to pedal my papers. What a happy and proud kid I was. I pedaled my papers morning and night on that bike, always keeping it waxed and polished like new. The Monark served me well for the next four years until the summer of 1951 when I purchased my first car, a 1937 Chevy Sport Coupe for $150.00.

The following summer I was attempting a repair on the Chevy in front of my Dad’s garage. When I found the trouble, the repair parts were going to cost $20 more than I had. A man was mowing the next door neighbor’s lawn, and came over and asked me what was the matter. I told him of my plight at about the same time he spotted the Monark in the garage. He asked if I wanted to sell it, as he had a young son who was ready for a bike. He offered me the $20 I needed, and the deal was made. I said good-bye to my beloved Monark, never to see another one to this day. Strauss Stores, where I got the bike, was a Chicago based firm and Monark’s were made in Chicago. My guess was that the store got it on consignment, and never got another one.

We move ahead to the Spring of 1953, the Monark just a pleasant memory, the Chevy Sport Coupe now getting a bit tired, and I started thinking about upgrading. A beautiful black 41 Buick Roadmaster convertible took my eye, and I said good-bye to my second love, my 37 Chevy. Over the next few years I owned a 48 Buick Roadmaster convertible, and then a 50 Buick Roadmaster convertible, along with a few other quality cars in between. I drove that 50 Roadmaster to 209,000 miles, putting the last 30,000 or so miles while commuting to Ft. Dix when in the Army. In the fall of 1957 I traded it for a 52 Cadillac Fleetwood, but took a picture of it just before trading it, and I still carry that picture in my wallet to this day. It was the best car I have ever had, and Jean and I have so many fond memories of our courting years in that car. Once again, like the 47 Monark, I have never seen another 50 Roadmaster convertible, or a 51 or a 52, which were basically the same car.

Fast forward 40 years to the summer of 1997, and the Macungie, Pa. Car Show. My daughter Brenda lived about an hour away, and came to spend the day with us. She and I were walking through the flea market, and I spotted a 47 Monark, but it had been sold to Firestone, and carried the Firestone badge. It was 98% Monark, and I was finally able to show her the bike she had heard me talk about all her life. As I was explaining the bike to her, another man overheard me, and asked me if I had a Monark, as he was a collector of bikes. I told him my story of owning one, and how I had sold it for $20 to make a repair on my car. He told me he was a collector, and had over 40 bikes. I replied that it made more sense than collecting cars, as they didn’t take up as much room. He said, “Yeah, I have a car I have been restoring for five years, and asked if I knew anyone interested in owning a good car?” I replied, “What is a good car, and he said a 51 Buick Roadmaster convertible.” I couldn’t believe my ears, and promptly pulled out my wallet and asked if it looked anything like the picture of my 50 that I had been carrying all these years. He was shocked; as he had never met anyone who had owned one of these big Buick’s either. The 50, 51, and 52 were all on the same basic body, engine, and drive train with production about 2750 a year; thus, making them very rare.

We talked about the cars, our experiences with them, and his asking price which was more than I could afford. We exchanged names and phone numbers, and parted both feeling quite surprised at such a coincidental meeting. Arriving home, I just couldn’t get over the surprise of finding a similar Buick after 40 years. I had a 59 Chevy convertible which I wasn’t real attached to, and called him and offered it as a partial trade, but he explained that he really wanted to just get out of cars. I thanked him, and wished him luck in finding a buyer.

The phone rings on a Saturday afternoon the following October, and the voice is Joe, the owner of the 51 Buick. He said he was at Hershey, and didn’t have a sale, and suggested we might get together on the 59 Chevy deal. I agreed to go to Pa. to look at the Buick the next week-end. When he backed it out of the garage, I got that same giddy feeling I had when I saw that Monark in the window in 1947. This car was beautiful, almost like new, and purring with that sweet sound of the big Buick straight eight. I knew it was a done deal if he would take the 59 Chevy and my available cash. He came up to our home the following week-end to see the Chevy, and we shook hands on the deal. That week I got a friend with a rollback truck, we loaded up the Chevy, and drove to Pa. to leave the Chevy and bring home the Buick.

The Buick has been everything I could have wanted. It drives and handles so nice, except when you try to park it. Power steering wasn’t an option until 1952. When we take it out with the top down, it just makes you feel like a kid again. It is always a hit at the Car Shows, as most people have never seen one of these land yacht Buicks, and it has brought us many nice trophies. So, talking about my dream bicycle of 1947, brought me back to my dream Buick of 1957 in 1997.

Fast forward once again to December 2004. The phone rings Thursday morning the week before Christmas, and the man on the other end is Joe, the one I bought the Buick from. He asked if I remembered him, and wondered if I still had the Buick. My answer was affirmative. He then asked if I had ever thought of selling it, as he would be interested in buying it back. He stated again that he had spent five years of his life restoring it, and was sorry that he had sold it. I assured him that I will never part with the Buick, and my daughter has spoken for it when I pass on. He was happy to hear how much we are enjoying the car, and thanked me anyway. After a bit of small talk, he mused at how we met; me talking about the Monark bike, and his over hearing the conversation, and then me having a picture of a similar Buick to his in my wallet. We both remembered the meeting almost word for word.

I then told him that I was still looking for a Monark bike, and that I had never seen another like the one I had. You know he said, “I bought a guys bike collection a couple of years ago, and I had to pedal two of the bikes to recoup some of my money, and one was an original Monark in very nice shape.” I think the guy that bought it is ready to retire, and will sell the bike for just what he paid for it. Let me give you his name and number. This is too good to be true I thought. I thanked Joe, and we said good-bye.

I didn’t even put the receiver down, and promptly called the owner. I explained my request; he still had the bike, and agreed to sell it to me as Joe had said. I requested some E-mail pictures, which portrayed an original bike in very nice condition. I sent him a deposit, and during Christmas week I borrowed my son-in-laws van, and off we went to Pa. again, this time to bring back my first real wheels. I couldn’t wait to jump on it, and take it for a ride. Once again, I felt just like I was in a time warp; riding my old bike and feeling so good.

So, talking about the bike of my dreams, brought me back to the Buick of my dreams. Then talking about the Buick of my dreams brought me back to the Monark of my dreams. Life just doesn’t get any better than that.