Dad’s New Riviera

not in a mechanical sense. I never saw him turn a wrench, but he always loved cars. Every year, when the new models were introduced, we would visit showrooms to check out the latest that Detroit had to offer. His business did well enough to afford to feed his passion for new automobiles, so there was never anything more than two years old in our garage. Mom and Dad each had their own car, and in the early Sixties, the list included some that I would love to have today. There was a 1959 Oldsmobile 88, traded for a baby-blue ’61 Buick Electra, and then came a ’62 Oldsmobile Starfire: all were convertibles.