Bud Eungard was a great guy. I admired him from the time I was old enough to understand that he was my uncle.
Uncle Bud was a cool guy. He had cool cars.
He had a Volkswagen Karmann Ghia, one of the first imported German two-seaters in America. I remember the day he gave me a ride. I can still feel that VW engine.
He had a 1967 Chevy Impala. Purple. Today, they’d call it plum. He had a 1976 Pontiac Trans Am. Red. Nice ride.
Uncle Bud was a resourceful guy.
He turned his big backyard in Plainfield, IL, into a dirt bike track. Like so many of his projects, this one was for his son, Bill, and his neighborhood buddies and his other nephew, Dave. Bill and Dave liked motorbikes and speed and danger. Their cousin, Steve (me), was not quite so adventurous.
But Uncle Bud never held that against me.
Uncle Bud had a motorcycle, too. As a matter of fact, through the eyes of a little boy, Uncle Bud had it all. He had tools and gadgets. He made things.
One winter he made some kind of a space-aged hovercraft. There are photos to prove it. He made it for the kids, of course.
When I was no longer a kid, I still admired Uncle Bud. I admired and saluted his service to our country. He enlisted in the Army in the 1950s, straight out of high school, during The Korean War. He left his bride at home to serve a cause greater than himself. He served in Europe during that time, at the onset of The Cold War.
Uncle Bud was a true American. A Patriot. He wore the uniform; then he came home and went to work. He was married and had a son. He took care of his family. He was a wonderful husband and (cool) dad. He was devoted to his two sweet sisters, who were absolutely crazy about their little brother.
He lived his whole adult life in the same house in Plainfield. He rarely complained about anything. He loved to eat home cooked meals and good desserts. He told great stories and pulled off a lot of memorable pranks. He had a lot of friends. When they retired they took up golf. In recent years, Bud and I talked a lot about our shared frustrations with golf — and liberals.
Near the end of his life, when he could have been a bitter guy, he never seemed to change. He lived out his days in a wheelchair. It was no Karmann Ghia, to be sure. And he was not particularly happy about the Korean-made car he bought himself to replace an aging Ford.
But Uncle Bud was an optimist his whole life and that wasn’t about to change. The last time I saw him he told me why he bought the sedan made by the Korean car company, rather than a U.S.-made vehicle.
The Korean car had the longest warranty.