Old 1947 Buick

Although I don’t know if that was the year or the make of her car, I do know it was old and manufactured prior to 1950. It was a dark green color but much of the paint was worn off and showed the rusty color underneath.

Every summer I would go to my grandmother’s and spend the summer with her. Often, my cousin who was close to my age, would join me. This story is about my grandmother, her old car, my teenage self, and my teenage cousin.

One particular summer, after I had obtained my drivers license, my cousin and I were at my grandmother’s home and like 100% of teenagers, we were bored. I finally got the courage to ask my grandmother if we could take her car to the Dairy Queen and get an ice cream. She agreed and asked us not to be gone long and to be careful.

What she wasn’t aware of was that the Dairy Queen, in this particular town, was the “hang out place” for all the teenagers. WhooHoo! We were free to go, had a car (even though it was older than dirt) and the okay to go where all the teenagers of this town go, THE DAIRY QUEEN!

As soon as we pulled up to the Dairy Queen, about four boys (who we had never met in our life) piled into our car. We were teenage girls and the boys were cute, do you think we minded? Heck no! We were having fun talking to these cute boys and sitting at the dairy queen when a voice came over the loudspeaker paging me! What? Why am I being paged?

I went to the window and they handed me the phone. (This was way before cell phones). It was my grandmother and she was mad! We had lost track of time. So, we scurried our little butts home. (Fortunately, she wasn’t too mad).

Oh, and did I tell you that the car wouldn’t go over 20 miles per hour?


I wrote out a lot of different prompts (mostly single words) and put them into a box so that I could pull one out once a week and write a story about the prompt that had been selected. The story could either be fiction or non-fiction. Today, I pulled out the prompt, “Old 1947 Buick.” This particular story is non-fiction.

42 thoughts on “Old 1947 Buick

  1. OH what a fun story! Glad your grandmother wasn’t too mad πŸ˜‰ At first I was afraid you were going to wreck the car, glad you didn’t! LOL about it going only 20mph!

    • Yes, it was a horrible. (Of course, my grandmother didn’t know the real reason we were there so I deserved it. haha) LOL! My name was broadcasted over all of Diary Queen. haha!

  2. What an excellent story, Joy, and wonderfully written. Wasn’t it great when we didn’t have cell phones (we call them mobiles)

    • Oh, England/UK called them mobiles? Yes, it was great, except they might have saved me a little embarrassment that day. My grandmother didn’t know the real reason we wanted to go to the Diary Queen so I deserved it. LOL!

      • Oh joy, I’ve just been thinking about writing a post about people who refer to the UK/Britain as England lol shame on you! England is only a part of UK, we also have Wales and Scotland and Ireland is part of the British Isles but are now an independent country. Short lesson over lol πŸ™‚

        • Thank you for the geography lesson! LOL! Seriously, I am grateful. I always thought England was one big huge country and Scotland, Wales, and Ireland were their own country. I never understood why it was sometimes called Britain and sometimes call the UK. Is Britain the same thing as saying the UK?

  3. What a cute story and it sounds like you had a lot of fun! What a great idea to pick out random prompts out of a box. Can’t wait to read the next one πŸ™‚

    • That is so funny! In my hometown when I was a teenager our hangout was the A&W. We use to “drag” main and circle around the A&W where all the kids hung out. This Dairy Queen in my story was in the town my grandmother lived in. (They didn’t have an A&W). The other day I had to drive to the next town over for a doctor’s appt. and they have the last A&W in our area. I had to stop to get a steak finger basket with a root beer in a mug. πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ so funny!

I would love to read your thoughts...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s