The Mighty Station Wagon

Look at that snazzy wood paneling!

I grew up in the eighties and I have, therefore, gotten to observe some of the most unfortunate trends known to man. Tight-rolled jeans, heavy metal hair, and everything in neon colors are just some of the offending trends that come to mind. But did you know that one of the most awful eighties phenomena didn’t occur in the realm of fashion or hairstyles, but rather, in the realm of automotive design? I think you know what I’m talking about. That’s right—the mighty station wagon. The Mom Mobile, the Chuckwagon, the REO Speedwagon—these are just some of the things my eighties consorts and I called station wagons. Yet, in spite of their awkwardness, their ability to embarrass older children and teenagers, and their size being equivalent to that of a great white shark—well, station wagons were still immensely popular in the eighties. You could hardly drive anywhere without seeing one. So, in the spirit of nostalgia, allow me to reminisce about the station wagons owned by my family members.

First, let’s look at my earliest clear memory of a station wagon. I was young, and it seemed larger-than-life. It was my Aunt Lynn and Uncle Scott’s family car. They had three children at the time (eventually they had five), and station wagons were the choice automobile for people who needed to cart kids around. Back then people definitely considered convenience over style. However, even though I think station wagons were unfortunate, I still regard them with a fondness I typically feel only for beloved older relatives who stand to leave me money after they die.

Lynn and Scott’s station wagon was purple. I know what you are thinking. Purple isn’t now, nor has it ever been a popular car color. Nonetheless, I swear, the station wagon was purple. I also think it had wood paneling, because wood paneling was the true height of awesomeness if you owned a station wagon. Maybe the wood paneling was purple too. I can’t really picture it that clearly. I just remember riding around in it during the summer when I was very young, and that it was very, very hot inside. That station wagon also had kind of a flattened look, almost like it used to be a taller car and Godzilla was walking around Atlanta and thought, “Oh my God! That car is so ugly! Allow me to pound it out of existence!” And then stepped on it.

Time passed, though, as time tends to do, and eventually Lynn and Scott decided to purchase a newer vehicle in which to haul their kids and their nieces and nephews. This time, I remember the station wagon they purchased was definitely not purple. I don’t remember the color, but I do remember that it had that snazzy wood paneling, and that it didn’t look like it had been stepped on by King Kong. Right after they bought it, my Uncle Scott invited my brothers and me to go for an inaugural ride in it. He picked the three of us up, and we joined his three kids in the back of the wagon. No doubt there was a fight to the death over who got to ride in the seat that faced backward in the very back of the car.

Scott took us all to Dairy Queen, where, instead of ordering ice cream, we ordered from the less popular brazier menu. I remember that there were lots of hot dogs. Back then we used to love to take food to the local community airport to eat and watch the planes take off. Scott took us there, and when we got there we got out, and he folded down all of the station wagon seats to make a large flatbed in the back of the car. He rolled down the back window and all of us kids sat by the window eating our food and watching the planes. I guess Scott was either sitting in the front seat or standing back by the back window. Whatever he was doing, I hope he was enjoying an adult beverage, because anyone carting the six of us around sure would have deserved one!

I ate a couple of hot dogs, and suddenly started feeling ill, and then, well, I threw up all over the inside of the back of my uncle’s brand new station wagon! My cousin, Brennan, getting a good eyeful of the vomitous mess, then threw up too. And so went the inaugural ride in the brand new car.

My parents also owned station wagons. The first I can remember is the dark teal blue one my dad drove. Of course it had wood paneling, and dark wood paneling at that. I think dark wood paneling added a sophisticated, Mad Men-like coolness to the image of the discerning station wagon driver. Now, here is the most awesome part about my dad’s station wagon—it ran on diesel fuel! So, whenever we went to the gas station we had to find that special pump that dispensed diesel. I remember enjoying the smell of the gas anytime my dad filled up. Something not so awesome about my dad’s station wagon was the thick silver wire that protruded from the edge of the seat in the back, cutting my brothers and me up every time we rode in the thing. My dad would constantly cut the wire, but, no matter how often he cut it, more wire would appear and poke through the seat. It was as if the car had developed sentience and was hellbent on making mincemeat out of the legs of small children.

My most vivid station wagon memory is of my mom’s tan wagon with accompanying tan wood paneling. The monochromatic color scheme lent an air of sophistication to it, so much so that Coco Chanel herself might not have felt out of place driving it. My mom actually drove that thing up until 2002 when she got a Ford Explorer, which she still drives today. I recall fondly being embarrassed in high school when my mom would drop me off in the station wagon, and mortified the day of my senior year when I had to drive it myself because I had to transport a large art project to school.

Riding in a station wagon always made me feel like I was doing something fun, like going to the beach, or going to Six Flags or something, and station wagons play a large part in many of my most cherished childhood memories. I was 24 when I bid a final farewell to the station wagon—a cultural fixture that had been a constant in my life for two decades. The station wagon—Gone, but not forgotten. Thanks for the memories!

Image courtesy of www.mclellansautomotive.com