The Last of the Pontiacs

Recently, we had a sad day. No, I’m not talking about a mass-shooting or other type of disaster or a personal tragedy. It was a sad day for my wife Pam and I because we sold our final Pontiac automobile. Pam and I have driven Pontiacs almost exclusively since we married in 1970.

We just bought a 2019 Subaru Legacy and are selling our 2007 Pontiac G6.

You see, her grandfather Ralph “Pappy” Willis, started a family business called the Willis Motor Company in 1934 in North Canton, Ohio. The first year, he sold Plymouth autos, but switched to selling Pontiacs after that first year.

Willis Motors sold Pontiacs for more than 70 years until 2007 when Pam’s brother Jeff decided to cancel the Pontiac franchise and close the dealership following the sudden death of their dad Bill Willis. Pam’s father worked for his father “Pappy” beginning in his teens and took over the business when Ralph passed away in 1980. Jeff was the heir apparent.

In 2009, General Motors announced the termination of the Pontiac brand and the last cars rolled off the assembly line in 2010.

During the final days of the Willis Motors, Jeff had a handful of cars to sell and Pam and I decided to purchase the G6 sedan. So, it was one of the last Pontiacs sold by Willis Motors.

Pam and I married in 1970 and our first Pontiac, a bronze color 1970 Lemans was our wedding present. Pam’s dad always wanted her to drive at least a medium size car because he felt that would provide more protection during a crash.

Pam and I met at the end of our sophomore year at Miami University and I visited her later that summer. When I pulled into her driveway that Friday evening, I’m sure her dad was appalled at seeing my 1959 VW Beetle with the front hood tied down with piece of rope. After that visit, whenever I came to North Canton to visit, he made sure to have a larger used car available for us to use.

Sometimes he let us use a Bonneville, Pontiac’s largest sedan and driving that was a lot different than driving a VW Beetle. Looking out the front windshield, the Bonneville’s hood seemed as large as the flight deck on an aircraft carrier. Another time he let use use a four-speed stick shift GTO, Pontiac’s classic performance car and that was quite an experience, too.

My favorite “loaner” from my future father-in-law was a blue 1967 Pontiac Tempest convertible that he let us use during Memorial Day weekend in 1969. The weather was perfect that weekend and Pam and I logged a lot of miles enjoying the northeast Ohio countryside with the top down and the radio blaring.

I loved that car and I asked Bill how much it cost. The price tag of $1,300 was way too much for a kid who had another year of college and was making about two dollars an hour at his summer job.

After we married, we always had one nearly new Pontiac and I drove mostly older used cars. When it was time to replace my older car, we would check with Pam’s dad and buy a car traded in for a new Pontiac. Many of his customers traded for new cars every three of four years, so he had a steady supply of decent cars for us to choose from. Many times, those were not Pontiacs.

In the early 80s, when we both had good jobs, we splurged and became a two-Firebird couple. Pam got her Pontiac sports car first, a white 1980 model that didn’t seem too sporty enough for her. So her dad arranged to have a horizontal red racing stripe put on each side and replaced the interior with red, cloth seats.

A couple of years later, I bought a new bronze color Firebird that was the spiffiest car I ever owned. I had it a couple of years before it was stolen one day in Pittsburgh while I was visiting a friend. The police recovered it several weeks later, but the radio-cassette player had pried out of the dashboard, the seats damaged and the wheels and pop-up headlights stolen.

I used an insurance company loaner for a few weeks while my poor Firebird was being repaired. I drove it home from Pittsburgh one evening while looking at the gaping hole in the dashboard where the radio had been. Bill’s mechanic examined the car after I brought it back to Ohio and we decided to wholesale the car because it has been treated so poorly by the criminals who stole it.

Last year we decided to replace both of our older, high-mileage Pontiacs. First, I bought a 2013 Honda CRV from Pam’s brother Jeff, who currently sells for a used car dealer in North Canton. I sold my 2004 Pontiac Vibe with 184,000 miles on it and I hated to see that car go. It was arguably the best car I ever owned, a small SUV with a luggage rack on top that we used to take our son Brian to and from college in St. Louis.

So, the last Pontiac we own is currently for sale at Jeff’s used car lot in North Canton. The dark gray 2007 Pontiac G6 sedan with about 117,000 miles also was a great car. Because it was about the last car sold by Willis Motors, it holds a special, sentimental place in our memories.

It is more than a car, it’s a memento of a family business that was a big part of Pam’s life. And mine, too.

My Tale of Two Cities

This is my personal tale of two cities and my reaction to the horrible tragedy that has befallen each. The cities, Dayton, Ohio, and El Paso, Texas, both hold an important place in my life and I grieve with them as I write this.

They are very different cities. Dayton is a somewhat typical Midwestern city that was once anchored by an internationally-known company and large auto-related manufacturing plants that have since moved elsewhere. The area still has Wright-Patterson Air Force Base and the historical notoriety of being the birthplace of the Wright Brothers, who invented the first airplane.

Nearly 1,600 miles southwest is El Paso, Texas, at the very western tip of that state and directly across the Rio Grande River from Cuidad Juarez, Mexico. El Paso is also home to a major military base, Ft. Bliss, and is a major commercial and banking hub for western Texas.

The two cities are now linked in history by two acts of violence that occurred only about 13 hours apart. On a sunny, hot Saturday morning, a lone gunman with an AK-47 rifle opened fire in a Walmart parking lot in El Paso and then went into the store to continue his killing spree. He killed 22 people and injured 26 more before he was arrested a short distance from the store.

This shooting took place in a large shopping area that straddles I-10 for several miles and includes the Vista Cielo Mall to the east of downtown El Paso. The suspect, 21-year-old Patrick Crusius, allegedly drove 600 miles from suburban Dallas before his bloody attack. Federal government authorities will charge him with domestic terrorism and hate crimes because of a manifesto he published on a white supremacy web site saying he wanted to kill Mexican immigrants to prevent them from taking over the country.

Just 13 hours later, a lone gunman, 24-year-old Connor Betts, from nearby Bellbrook, Ohio, began a shooting rampage in the Oregon district, a popular nightlife district with bars and restaurants east of downtown Dayton. This attack lasted about a minute before several Dayton Police Department officers, who were routinely patrolling the area, shot and killed the shooter before he could enter a crowded night club.

In this attack, nine were killed and 20 more were wounded. As I write this, police still don’t have a precise motive for this attack, but one of the fatalities was the 22-year-old sister of the shooter.

So, two cities that are so different are now connected forever because of these atrocities. I am writing about each of them because I have a personal connection to both.

When I was 14, my family moved from Columbus, Ohio, to the Dayton area because my dad accepted a new job. I lived in the suburbs and attended Archbishop Alter High School in nearby Kettering. Because this was more than 50 years ago, I’m don’t know what the Oregon district was like back then. When I turned 18 and was legally permitted to drink 3.2 percent beer, my friends and I tended to visit bars along Brown Street close to the University of Dayton. While I was in college at Miami University in nearby Oxford, Ohio, I still returned to the Dayton area during holiday breaks and worked there during the summer months. Since my 50-year class reunion in 2016, I have kept in touch with several high school classmates who live in the Dayton area via Facebook.

While I don’t have a direct connection to the victims of the Dayton shooting, I still feel emotional about the tragic deaths of a group of people enjoying a warm summer night in the city that was an important part of my growing up.

My connection with El Paso is much more recent. To get away from the cold Ohio winter, I decided to rent an AirBnb property from mid-January to the end of March this year in the Mission Hills section of El Paso. Why El Paso? When doing my research about where to spend the winter, I was intrigued by that city’s proximity to Mexico, both in location and culture and the dry desert climate.

I was not disappointed with my choice. This city of 680,000 is vibrant and interesting with a mix of both American and Mexican cultures. About the half of the population of El Paso has a direct family link to nearby Mexico. I rented a casita or small house while there and I could see Juarez in the Mexican state of Chihuahua from the street in front of my house,

I took some non-credit classes at the University of Texas-El Paso (UTEP) and learned about the history and culture of the area that locals call the Borderland. I met some interesting people there and was intrigued how the two cultures exist side-by-side in this city. At the local supermarket, restaurants, coffee shops and on campus, hearing people speak both English and Spanish was an everyday occurrence.

I went to El Paso to get relief from my chronic asthma and allergies, but the elevation of the city of about 3,800 feet, proved to be a problem for my breathing. If not for that, I would gladly go back next winter. I really liked the city and the Borderland area.

Because the shootings in El Paso were apparently racially motivated, my heart goes out to the people of a community where Americans and Latinos live and work side-by-side in relative harmony. El Paso’s crime rate has historically been much lower than the national average for a city its size.

So, I was deeply affected by the events of in both Dayton and El Paso. I have a great deal of love for both communities and they are both an important part of my life, although separated by about 50 years.

One final note. Ironically, both Dayton and El Paso are linked by one thing I love: college basketball. The University of Dayton Flyers have been a nationally-ranked mid-major power for years and I still root for them most of the time, even though I am not an alumnus. They are a prominent part of the community that was an important to me when I was growing up.

UTEP was formally called Texas Western University and, in 1966, the Miners won the NCAA national basket ball championship over Kentucky. I attended a couple of games while I was in El Paso and joined fans in applauding a couple of players and the coach’s wife when they were honored, even though they beat my graduate school’s alma mater. The movie “Glory Road” celebrates this incredible story.

So, I am very sad about the fate these two cities shared. I’m not going to comment about our country’s gun laws or immigration policy here. These are two cities that did not deserve what happened this weekend, but they will be forever linked by tragic events. And, they will both have a place in my heart for as long as I live.