A Big Car for a Growing Family-

That’s my older brother and me on top of a snowbank during a particularly heavy snow-filled winter in upstate New York. The family car, a Pontiac Star Chief, is parked below us. Photo: Newvine Personal Collection

Remembering the family Pontiac

When I learned of the passing of former Merced Sun-Star editor Mike Tharp recently, I recalled the debt of gratitude I owe him.

Back in the early years of the 2000s, before MercedCountyEvents.com came along to provide me with a writing home, I would frequently write commentary pieces for the Sun-Star.

Mike was my point of contact. He would be the one to green-light my idea for an opinion piece for the paper.

Over the years, a commentary written by me on such topics as the Jeopardy game where contestants played against Watson the computer, the ending of NASA’s space shuttle program, and the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Jack Benny radio program were published in the paper.

Mike had only one note for me. “Are there any photographs of that family car?” he asked.

At the time I had no pictures of that automobile.

In later years, I found two in my dad’s family photo albums.

So, in tribute to Mike Tharp, here’s an edited version of that first essay from my Sun Star collection from 2009, now with pictures:

The federal government’s plan to restructure General Motors is designed to improve the finances for the ailing automaker.

The plan also calls for the end of production for the Pontiac line. While the car guys (and women) are mourning the end of Pontiac, I’ll miss that familiar brand for reasons that have little to do with muscle cars such as the Firebird or the GTO.

For my family growing up in Port Leyden, New York during the 1960s and 70s, Pontiac was the family car. In the mid-sixties, my dad bought a used 1964 Pontiac Star Chief. From that moment on, Pontiacs were a part of our household.

I remember that Star Chief really well. The color was mauve with a white top. Headlights were two to a side and stacked vertically. It had four doors and lots of legroom no matter where you sat. It also had, arguably, the largest trunk in the history of auto manufacturing.

The car was big, reliable, powerful, and apparently cheap to run. To be fair, no one thought much about the price of gas in the early days that preceded the Middle East oil embargo of the early 1970s.

My sister and dad were washing the Star Chief during one of my family’s summer camping trips in northern New York. Photo: Newvine Personal Collection

I have no idea how big the engine was, but it was powerful. I remember the Star Chief was able to tow our family camper trailer during our summer outings to the Adirondacks.

The large trunk came in handy as our family of five would fill it with suitcases, beach gear, cooking supplies, and anything that wasn’t already inside the camper for each outing.

In a few years, Dad would replace the Star Chief with another Pontiac. The latest used Pontiac was a maroon Catalina that did the family proud until 1972.

That year, Dad purchased a brand-new car. You guessed it. It was a Pontiac.

As near as I can tell, no color photographs of a mauve Star Chief exist, but this flattering photo of a teal Star Chief gives some idea of the majestic style of the car. Photo: Matti Blume, Wikipedia

Pontiac was the only car in our driveway when we were a one-car family. After my brother and I got our driver’s licenses, we became a two-Pontiac family.

As a young family man looking to replace my Toyota pick-up truck, I tried to buy a Pontiac in the 1980s.

I went to the Pontiac dealership, but once the salesman determined what my price range was, he directed me to a used Plymouth Reliant.

I marked the passing of the Pontiac line with heartfelt memories.

The car guys may miss their GTOs, Firebirds, and Gran Ams. But I still miss my Dad’s Star Chief, and all the memories created with it growing up.

Steve Newvine lives in Merced.

A version of this essay was included in his book Microphones, Moon Rocks & Memories published in 2012 and still available at Lulu.com