How could I ever forget my first car? My father hated it because it was un-American: a 1966 black Volkswagen Fastback.  In fact, it was about as un-American as you could get in my dad's mind.  

The year was 1976, I had moved to Long Island to continue my graduate studies.  I needed an inexpensive, reliable, gas efficient vehicle that could get me where I needed to go.  

At the time, the VW-Volkswagen Fastback communicated a kind of every man quality.  To my way of thinking, it was the perfect car for a practical student.  The status, and my rebellious personal statement, was in the practicality I guess.  For my father, it was a step backward because it wasn't General Motors.

You see, my first lesson in brand loyalty didn't come from a textbook, it came from observing how my dad felt about his cars -always GM- and how GM felt about my dad.

Like many of his generation, my dad started with a Chevy, progressed to the Pontiac, moved up to the Oldsmobile and finally arrived at the Buick.