When Mike went down to Quincy Chrysler-Plymouth and picked out a brand new gleaming yellow Plymouth Fury Sport Suburban he thought it was all the car he’d ever need. “This’ll be perfect for my three sons!” A successful architect, he appreciated the sturdy build and engineering that went into the wagon.

Then he met Carol. With three girls of her own, when they tied the knot and moved into the new contemporary two-story he designed, the Suburban wouldn’t cut it. Back to the dealership they all went. Rather than trade the Suburban in on the new Chrysler Town & Country, he gave it to his oldest son, Greg who’d just turned 16, and was all about the woody.

First thing Greg did was take the hulk down to McCloud Tire and Wheel and put on a new set of All-Seasons and 17” alloys with Mustang center caps because the only thing better than a woody was one with new rubber and some style.

The one condition of the Plymouth being gifted to him was that Greg had to take Marcia, Bobby, Peter, Jan, and Cindy to school every morning, leaving Carol more time to have coffee with Alice, the housekeeper, and not be rushed to ‘put on her face’ every morning. The yellow Sport Suburban created quite a fury at the high school the older step-siblings attended. 

Friends said the only thing groovier than the striped interior was the big ol’ psychedelic school bus owned by the family of Laurie, a classmate of Greg’s whose father had died young; her musical family touring the country singing in order to make the house payments. Some said their tunes were for the birds, but Greg always had kind of a thing for Laurie, nonetheless. They even dated a few times, making use of the cargo area in the back to learn a few facts of life. Good times.

Peter became a real pain in the arse by insisting three’s company and wanting to tag along, but Greg finally explained to him, “Look. Take it one day at a time, bro, and you’ll soon be enjoying your own Suburban happy days. But for now just accept the fact that you’re too young and restless for anyone like that girl, or any other.”

Some claimed that the very best love was love, American style, and Greg wouldn’t have disagreed while behind the wheel of his Sport Fury, Laurie lifting up the vinyl armrest separating them so she could mash up right next to him. That created quite an unfortunate emergency when Greg broadsided a ’59 Peugeot 403 Cabriolet that pulled out in front of him. The old guy in the trench coat driving it said it was his fault, he only had one eye on the road. It barely made a mark on the Sport Suburban, but the guy in the coat had to call a taxi to get himself home. 

Turning to Laurie, Greg was still all a flutter as they drove back home. “You really make me wonder, woman,” he sighed. “You tie me up in knots,” landing back in her driveway.

Despite the chick magnet the wagon had become, in the end Greg kept it all in the family. It was Marcia, Marcia, Marcia that he created some tales of the unexpected with.

Turns out A/C, AM/FM stereo, high-pile carpet, a CB, and cruise control aren’t the only amenities that come along with an inherited golden Plymouth Fury Sport Suburban and a blended family. That is until Greg had to engage in some counseling with Newhart, his very concerned psychologist.