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Cars

It's his Bluebird of happiness

That '59 Studebaker has been the love of his life - literally, so he doesn't care about the money.

By MARTY CLEAR
Published May 6, 2005

BRANDON - Lots of guys can trace their love for a specific car to a particular event in their youths. Their first date, or their first drag race, or favorite movie.

For Anthony Meaker, that special event was a nap.

"When I was a kid in San Francisco, my grandparents would take us to the beach," Meaker said. "I'd lie down on the floor in the back and I'd use the hump where the drive shaft is for a pillow."

Oh sure, there were other reasons Meaker liked that 1959 Studebaker Lark VIII. Mostly he just associated it with his grandparents, Steve and Lillian Stevens. He remembers, after he and his family had moved to a small town in Texas, eagerly awaiting a visit from his grandparents. He look down the road anticipating his first glance of the car, which his grandfather called "The Bluebird," as it turned the corner.

"It was just a thrill to see that car coming," Meaker said. "I just loved everything about it. The way it started, the way the turn signals sounded, that click-click-click-click. To me it was just an impressive car all the way around."

Long before he was old enough to drive, Meaker decided he wanted the car. Not just a car like it; he wanted the Bluebird itself.

"When I was 8 or 9, I told my grandfather never to sell that car because I wanted to buy it," Meaker said.

Pappy, as Meaker called his grandfather, never did sell that car. In fact he and Granny put more than 250,000 miles on it.

"They took it all over the United States, including Canada," Meaker said, "They never got it to Hawaii, of course, but I'm pretty sure they got to all the other 49 states."

Pappy kept meticulous records of all the work that was done on the car, and even kept logbooks of those cross-country trips with notes for every gas purchase.

But after Granny died, Pappy lost interest in the car and everything else. The record-keeping got sloppy after about 1977.

By 1992, Pappy was ready to give up the car. His health wasn't great, he wasn't interested in traveling without Granny, and besides he didn't care as much about the car as his grandson Anthony did.

"He was going to get rid of the car and I asked him to sign it over to me," Meaker said. "He said, "You ought to just junk it. It's not worth anything.' "

But he signed the title over to Meaker, who was living in Brandon by that time. Almost 30 years after Meaker first said he wanted the Bluebird, it was finally his.

The relationship between the Bluebird and its second-ever owner didn't have an especially auspicious beginning. The car needed a lot of work, and every mechanic and shop he brought it to turned out to be a disappointment.

"Either they'd take my money and not do the work or they'd take my money and do a bad job," he said. "My dream was always to take this car apart, every screw and every bolt, and reassemble it, and that's what I ended up doing. I didn't do the paint, I didn't stitch the upholstery, but other than that every part on this car has my fingerprints on it."

It took 10 years before the car was ready for what Meaker considers its maiden voyage. With the exception of the Titanic, it may have been the worst maiden voyage ever.

His plan had been to get the car ready for his wedding two years ago. A few days before the ceremony, he drove the Bluebird to the airport to pick up his mother. On the Lee Roy Selmon Crosstown Expressway, right in the middle of downtown, the brakes failed. All the fluid had leaked out of the rear disc brakes.

Meaker downshifted to slow down and limped into a Pep Boys. He added fluid and drove carefully to the airport and picked up his mother, Norma Meaker. He asked her if she was feeling brave.

The brakes held up for the return trip, but an unexpected rainfall caused other problem. Meaker hadn't yet hooked up the wiring to the wipers.

But mother, son and Bluebird finally made it back to Brandon. The wedding proved much less stressful than the car trip.

Meaker takes the Bluebird to shows regularly, but always to social shows where car lovers gather for fun; he doesn't bring it to judged shows. One reason is that the Lark doesn't have a great reputation among collectors. Even a 36-year-old Lark that's in pristine shape after almost 300,000 miles of driving and has stayed in the same family all its life isn't likely to bring home any prizes.

But it's unusual enough that it gets a lot of attention at the little weeknight car shows at the local Chick-fil-A, and when he's driving down the street, and that's plenty for Meaker.

"People tell me I shouldn't put more than $5,000 into it because it's not worth it," he said. "But that's not the point. I don't care if I put another $100,000 into it. The sentimental value is worth so much more than that. I'm not going to sell it. I've wanted this car since I was 8 years old, and now it's mine."

[Last modified May 5, 2005, 01:31:12]