It was not so in the 50's. University Avenue, Grand Avenue, East Seventh Street, Rice Street and Downtown offered all one could desire in automobiles.

While my parents shared in the household chores the decision when and what kind of car to purchase was strictly my dad's. He once purchased a hopeless little Crosley; that purchase did not please my mother.

In 1958, Dad determined it was time to trade in his 1953 Buick Roadmaster. Ever since that Crosley debacle Mom went with him to ensure there would be no surprises and for the first time in my young life, I got to tag along.

Our first stop was Saint Paul Buick located then downtown at Eighth and Sibley Streets. Dad looked at the new 1958 Buick Roadmaster, and muttered, “Too much chrome, it looks like a jukebox.”

Not finding what he was looking for there, we then went to Quantrell Cadillac, located somewhere near the Pleasant Avenue and Kellogg Street intersection, where he found two 1957 Buick Roadmaster 4-door hardtops. One was all-black and the other, a two-tone dark and light green. Personally, I liked the green one the best; it had a powerful-sounding rumble when accelerating, the black one had the more typical Buick whine. My opinion, of course, didn't matter and knowing this I kept my counsel.

I think my mom liked the green one too; as that was the one that came home with us. Later when riding with Mom in that marvelous Buick I learned something about my mom that I never saw coming: at a stoplight at Summit Avenue and Dale Street a Chevy pulled up next to us revving its engine. Mom looked at me, smiled, shifted to “low” and when the light changed, blew the doors off that Chevy!

“Don't tell Dad.”