Some people watch movies and appreciate the story.
Jim York watches movies and thinks:
I could probably jump farther than that.
Which brings us to National Lampoon's Vacation.
In the movie, Clark Griswold sends the Family Truckster flying through the desert in one of the most memorable station-wagon moments ever committed to film.
The stated distance?
About 150 feet.
Jim took that personally.
So he bought a Buick Roadmaster.
THE GOAL: BEAT GRISWOLD
The mission for Holley LS Fest East in 2023 was straightforward:
Build a station wagon.
Jump it farther than Clark Griswold.
Try not to die.
The car was a Buick Roadmaster wagon reportedly purchased for around $1,200 and transformed by Moorespeed Performance in roughly 10 days.
The resulting machine had an LS swap, roll cage, harnesses, and more than 300 horsepower at the wheels.
There was luggage on the roof.
Because if you're going after the Family Truckster, you have to respect the source material.
THERE WAS JUST THE MATTER OF THE RAMP
Jumping 150 feet isn't something you eyeball.
Well.
You probably shouldn't eyeball it.
Jim did a little of both.
The original ramp angle reportedly didn't look aggressive enough, so shortly before the stunt it was changed from around eight degrees to 12.5 degrees.
Target takeoff speed was around 80 mph.
Then, about an hour before the attempt, Jim discovered another problem.
The run-up was too rough.
So while a crowd waited for him to launch a station wagon into low Earth orbit, Jim was still removing rocks from the approach.
Standard stunt preparation.
DO NOT LIFT
Eventually there was nothing left to discuss.
Jim lined up.
Accelerated.
And committed.
The Roadmaster hit the ramp at roughly 80 mph and absolutely launched.
Not floated.
Not hopped.
Launched.
For 165 feet, a Buick station wagon became an aircraft.
The 150-foot marker passed underneath while Jim was still in the air.
Griswold: beaten.
Hollywood: beaten.
Gravity: preparing a response.
Contemporary coverage measured the jump at 165 feet, 15 feet beyond the 150-foot target.
THE LANDING
The flight was beautiful.
The landing was not.
As the Roadmaster came down, the nose pitched toward the ground.
The Buick hit hard.
Very hard.
The front end folded.
Glass went everywhere.
The wagon rolled.
Twice.
And then finally stopped.
Before the dust had even settled, Jim was climbing out.
Not only was he okay—he was celebrating.
Because that's what you do when you've just flown a station wagon farther than Clark Griswold.
Medical personnel checked Jim afterward, while the Buick received a considerably less optimistic prognosis.
The wagon had done its job.
WHY 165 FEET?
Because 151 would have been boring.
The entire stunt existed around a beautifully pointless goal:
Take one of America's greatest fictional station-wagon jumps and do it for real.
Not with computer graphics.
Not with a purpose-built movie stunt car hidden behind editing.
Get a Roadmaster.
Build it.
Put luggage on the roof.
Point it at a giant pile of dirt.
Beat Griswold.
That's the kind of idea American Stunt Society understands.
THE CAR WAS DISPOSABLE. THE STORY WASN'T.
This is the part people sometimes miss about stunts like this.
The Buick was never going to come out ahead.
A successful 165-foot jump was probably going to destroy it.
A bad one definitely would.
So if your metric is preserving a $1,200 Roadmaster, the entire exercise makes absolutely no sense.
If your metric is creating a moment people remember?
Different calculation.
Thousands of ordinary Roadmasters lived quiet lives hauling families, groceries, luggage, and dogs.
This one flew 165 feet.
We'll take that résumé.
CRASH REEL: SECURED
The Roadmaster made the jump.
Jim walked away.
The crowd got the show.
And Clark Griswold lost a record he never technically held in the first place.
That's about as American Stunt Society as it gets.
We know enough to be safely dangerous.
And when the wagon clears the checkered flags while you're still in the air?
Even better.
I'm just here for the crash reel.
JOIN THE SOCIETY
You don't have to jump a station wagon 165 feet.
Frankly, we'd prefer if you didn't.