THIS IS NOT YOUR FATHER’S
Oldsmobile ... BUT IT’S CLOSE By Lou Sitaras
T
he year was 1988 and Oldsmobile had just dramatically restyled their breadand-butter car, the Cutlass, and they needed a bold statement to go with it. Something that told the motoring public that Oldsmobile had changed and they weren’t the car manufacturer they used to be. They settled on the now-famous advertising slogan This Is Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile. The meaning behind it was simple: Times have changed. Was the slogan a hit? Well, it was certainly remembered, so I guess for an advertiser that equates with success. The Oldsmobile name in my family runs back to my late grandfather, Louis Isidore Sitaras, who immigrated from Greece through Ellis Island, became a successful restaurateur in the 1940s and ‘50s, and loved to drive an Oldsmobile. Back then, Olds was known for its Rocket motor and it made the cars among GM’s most popular. From the late 1950s through the early 1970s though, his loyalty changed to Pontiac with a 1966 389-powered Catalina being the car he’s most remembered for. For his final purchase in 1974, he switched back to his favored Oldsmobile brand — a 1974 Olds Cutlass with the Rocket 350 engine. He passed away in 1980. As is tradition with many families, the children tend to follow their parents’ preferences and both my dad and his brother Jim were also restaurateurs and passionate Oldsmobile enthusiasts. My dad was always borrowing grandpop’s 1939 Olds when out with friends or on dates. In fact, in his high school yearbook was this note from his favorite girl, Mary: To Christy, the guy with the big black car. During his life, dad’s Oldsmobiles were among his favorites. The first one I remember was a 1963 Dynamic 88. It was our family car for many years as we took trips to the beach, to Lenape Park, or the occasional family picnic. The Oldsmobiles that followed included an ‘84 Cutlass Ciera, and an ‘86 Delta 88. Towards the end of dad’s life, the Chrysler minivan became his favorite vehicle.
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An identical match of Cousin Lou’s 1970 442 convertible when he purchased it in the late 1970s.
Uncle Jim was a larger-than-life figure who loved all cars — especially flashy ones — and he even owned a used car lot, US-1 Auto Sales in Marathon Key, Fla. Oldsmobiles were always his favorites, though. Over the course of his life, he owned a 1962 Olds F-85, a 1970 Delta 88, and two Oldsmobile Toronados, a 1971 and a 1977. My uncle was a huge influence in my life and his love of automobiles became my love of automobiles. Both my dad and uncle are gone now, but their automotive legacy continues. My cousins Lou and Steve both had 1970 Oldsmobiles. Steve had a gold Cutlass convertible. Lou was shopping for his very first car but every car he liked, his Dad didn’t. They were too fast, too shabby, too hot rodded — there was always an excuse. Then one day they went to the former Van Wyk Olds in Media, Pa. The owner’s son was selling his forest green 1970 Olds 442 convertible with a 455 and a four-speed. It was idling in the dealership garage when they arrived and there was no way my cousin Lou was getting talked out of this one. The car was perfect and it was beautiful! Lou treasured the car and worked at the beach all summer to pay for it. Sadly, on one of his weekly trips home to see his girlfriend JoAnn, disaster struck. In a hurry to get home, he passed a car while on a curve. Coming in the opposite direction just then was a tractor trailer and Lou had no choice but to go to the opposite shoulder. He didn’t make it. He clipped the trailer, the truck fell on his car, and he curled up around the shifter expecting the worst. The only part on the car that wasn’t damaged was the shifter — and the driver curled around it. It was a sad end to a beautiful car, but a blessing that someone could walk away from it unscathed. And that brings us to me. Unlike my grandfather, my dad, my uncle, and my cousins, Oldsmobile blood didn’t run through my veins. The closest I came was when my dad wanted to buy me a used 1976 Cutlass Supreme in excellent condition with whitewall tires. Just a few cars down the row from that Cutlass was a 1975 Hurst Olds with T-Tops and white lettered tires. Wow! It wasn’t as nice as the Cutlass but after seeing it, I fell hard in love like a high school cheerleader had just smiled at me. Dad couldn’t understand why I’d want an older car in worse condition. I couldn’t get through to him and we left empty-handed. It wasn’t until this year, 2021, when an Oldsmobile would finally reside in my driveway.
