A few days ago:
As is customary, my son ran to my room and stood next to my side of the bed while saying, "Oh! Hi Mommy. Good morning Mommy." I barely opened my eyes, cracked a lazy smile, and replied, "Good morning, Sweetheart."
He crawled up in my bed and snuggled with me for a few minutes and I asked if he knew where we were going to go that day. His response was priceless. He said, "Vegas, Baby!"
He's definitely my son, isn't he?
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Screw the Housekeeper, I Really Want a Driver
I have a love/hate relationship with driving. I love driving fast and I hate traffic, but I live in an area that makes driving fast nearly impossible due to the traffic. I've been in about a dozen accidents and probably two weren't my fault, but I haven't had an accident in a few years. I hate having to park a big car in a teeny, tiny parking space and it seems like every one these days are restriping their parking lots to make more spaces. Today and yesterday would have been perfect days to employ a chauffeur.
I've been following a blog for quite some time and the writer opened her store today. I had the address and knew in general where the store was located so I figured I'd make a quick jaunt down the 55 to check out the grand opening. If only it were so easy.
Let's start with the freeway itself. For those of you who aren't familiar, the 55 SB dumps you directly on Newport Blvd. If you don't take one of the exits before the end of the freeway, you are stuck in an impossible snarl of traffic. No problem, I was going to take the last exit - Victoria/22nd. The off ramp was closed. So, naturally, I was stuck in an impossible snarl of traffic. To make matters worse, I was all the way over on the right and life would have been better had I been to the far left so that I could make a U-turn at the first opportunity. The other drivers on the road ensured that was not gonna happen.
I should add that the 55 splits Newport Blvd. into two one-way streets. I was super-hella-aggravated, but figured that I can solve this problem easily enough. No problem, I turned right, made it to Harbor, then turned on Victoria. Eventually I made it back to Newport and started driving the correct direction.
Imagine my surprise when the address I was looking for did not exist. I should have just quit then, but I thought that perhaps I had been driving too fast and I missed it. I was determined to make it to this new store because I've been following the progress and was excited to check it out. So I crossed the freeway (remember that Newport Blvd. is a one-way at this point) went back on Newport, crossed the freeway, then went back on Newport in the correct direction.
Nope. The address I was looking for did not exist.
I couldn't check the address because I do not have internet access from my cell. I called someone and ask them to verify the address. This person could not find info on the store or the blog that I follow and my son thought this was the perfect opportunity to flex his lungs. He gave high-pitched squeals as I was trying to give Google suggestions. How high-pitched? Well, I think he broke my passenger-side mirror. Okay, that was me, but more on that later.
Suddenly, I noticed the sign. Yeah! I had transposed the last two numbers in the address. I excitedly pulled into the parking lot. There were maybe twelve spots. All taken. I followed the parking lot to the left and was stuck in a dead end of around four handicapped stalls. I'm not handicapped. And I was stuck in the L-shaped lot.
Thanks to my back-up camera, I managed to turn around without any problems. If not for the back-up camera, I'm fairly certain that I would have taken out the trash enclosure. By now there was an open spot in the parking lot. A COMPACT spot. I didn't notice that half the parking lot was for COMPACT cars on my first go-around. Those of you who know me realize that my vehicle does not remotely resemble a COMPACT.
So I got back on Newport Blvd., did the four-lefts U-turn, and came back to the parking lot. I actually tried the COMPACT space and let's just say that it would work. . .if I planned on jumping out of the car window as if it were the General Lee. I'm not from Duke County, so I figured that wasn't a good plan.
By this time my son was getting restless and he was asking for lunch. I eyed a spot that a couple were about to vacate. The cars on either side of this spot were line riders and there was no way I'd fit. Feeling discouraged, I decided to call it a day and returned home for lunch and naps. Well, we both ate lunch and one of us took a nap.
Yesterday I went to my new favorite beach with my little guy. It was relatively empty and I had my choice of parking spaces. I chose a spot that had a tree to the right for two reasons. One is that I remove my son out of the passenger side of the car and I prefer to have no cars to the right so that I can open the door as much as I want. The other is that I figured the tree would offer a little shade.
Before pulling in to the spot, I didn't realize that this tree was not perfectly upright. It kinda leaned to the side. As in, over the parking spot I was taking.
In the resulting battle, my passenger mirror was killed.
Now, my first car didn't even have a passenger mirror and I never even used one on my second car. But I have grown quite fond of knowing who might be lurking in my right blind spot. I guess I should be happy that I didn't clip anyone in all of my driving adventures today.
Driving. It's hard to believe that I really looked forward to this privilege at one time. Why do teens so want their driver's licenses? Because they aren't smart enough to realize what a colossal pain in the ass it is if you live anywhere besides a rural community.
I've been following a blog for quite some time and the writer opened her store today. I had the address and knew in general where the store was located so I figured I'd make a quick jaunt down the 55 to check out the grand opening. If only it were so easy.
Let's start with the freeway itself. For those of you who aren't familiar, the 55 SB dumps you directly on Newport Blvd. If you don't take one of the exits before the end of the freeway, you are stuck in an impossible snarl of traffic. No problem, I was going to take the last exit - Victoria/22nd. The off ramp was closed. So, naturally, I was stuck in an impossible snarl of traffic. To make matters worse, I was all the way over on the right and life would have been better had I been to the far left so that I could make a U-turn at the first opportunity. The other drivers on the road ensured that was not gonna happen.
I should add that the 55 splits Newport Blvd. into two one-way streets. I was super-hella-aggravated, but figured that I can solve this problem easily enough. No problem, I turned right, made it to Harbor, then turned on Victoria. Eventually I made it back to Newport and started driving the correct direction.
Imagine my surprise when the address I was looking for did not exist. I should have just quit then, but I thought that perhaps I had been driving too fast and I missed it. I was determined to make it to this new store because I've been following the progress and was excited to check it out. So I crossed the freeway (remember that Newport Blvd. is a one-way at this point) went back on Newport, crossed the freeway, then went back on Newport in the correct direction.
Nope. The address I was looking for did not exist.
I couldn't check the address because I do not have internet access from my cell. I called someone and ask them to verify the address. This person could not find info on the store or the blog that I follow and my son thought this was the perfect opportunity to flex his lungs. He gave high-pitched squeals as I was trying to give Google suggestions. How high-pitched? Well, I think he broke my passenger-side mirror. Okay, that was me, but more on that later.
Suddenly, I noticed the sign. Yeah! I had transposed the last two numbers in the address. I excitedly pulled into the parking lot. There were maybe twelve spots. All taken. I followed the parking lot to the left and was stuck in a dead end of around four handicapped stalls. I'm not handicapped. And I was stuck in the L-shaped lot.
Thanks to my back-up camera, I managed to turn around without any problems. If not for the back-up camera, I'm fairly certain that I would have taken out the trash enclosure. By now there was an open spot in the parking lot. A COMPACT spot. I didn't notice that half the parking lot was for COMPACT cars on my first go-around. Those of you who know me realize that my vehicle does not remotely resemble a COMPACT.
So I got back on Newport Blvd., did the four-lefts U-turn, and came back to the parking lot. I actually tried the COMPACT space and let's just say that it would work. . .if I planned on jumping out of the car window as if it were the General Lee. I'm not from Duke County, so I figured that wasn't a good plan.
By this time my son was getting restless and he was asking for lunch. I eyed a spot that a couple were about to vacate. The cars on either side of this spot were line riders and there was no way I'd fit. Feeling discouraged, I decided to call it a day and returned home for lunch and naps. Well, we both ate lunch and one of us took a nap.
Yesterday I went to my new favorite beach with my little guy. It was relatively empty and I had my choice of parking spaces. I chose a spot that had a tree to the right for two reasons. One is that I remove my son out of the passenger side of the car and I prefer to have no cars to the right so that I can open the door as much as I want. The other is that I figured the tree would offer a little shade.
Before pulling in to the spot, I didn't realize that this tree was not perfectly upright. It kinda leaned to the side. As in, over the parking spot I was taking.
In the resulting battle, my passenger mirror was killed.
Now, my first car didn't even have a passenger mirror and I never even used one on my second car. But I have grown quite fond of knowing who might be lurking in my right blind spot. I guess I should be happy that I didn't clip anyone in all of my driving adventures today.
Driving. It's hard to believe that I really looked forward to this privilege at one time. Why do teens so want their driver's licenses? Because they aren't smart enough to realize what a colossal pain in the ass it is if you live anywhere besides a rural community.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Romanticizing the '69
Before I lose a bunch of readers, please understand that this is not a provocative post. I confess that I only chose that title because it's a clever play on words. I apologize if you're looking for a sexy post about coitus because this won't satisfy you.
My husband often waxes nostalgic for the cars of his youth. Specifically, he reminisces about his Camaros. He's owned two at this point in his life and, while I certainly did not know him when he owned them, it appears that he loved those cars. I came across a series of photographs of his '73 Camaro while cleaning out a closet several years ago. I found it humorous that he so loved this car that he actually burned a roll of film (not cheap in 1978 - the date stamped on the back of the photos) to document the awesomeness of his ride. He was in a few of the pictures too and, I must say, he was a tall drink of water. I joked that I totally would have been with him in those days. . .if I wasn't just three years old when those photos were taken, that is. I kept a close up of him from that series of pictures at my desk until I stopped working for wages. It now resides on our refrigerator so I can still see it every day.
For some reason that I can't possibly fathom, my husband loves white cars. For the record, I think white only belongs on fleet cars, but that's not his feeling. He has frequently detailed his quest to find the whitest white with the least bit of undertone when he was getting ready to paint his '67 Camaro. By the way, the whitest white was apparently from a '75 Cadillac El Dorado.
Though we live in what could be called a project house, my husband likes the idea of project cars. He is so desirous of a '69 Camaro convertible that I actually looked into buying a body for him several years ago. Let's just say that the cost was so prohibitive that I suggested he might want to buy a running car instead and call it a day.
The current crop of Camaros were supposedly inspired by the '69. I think the interior looks terrific (I've never met a gauge that I don't like), but I don't see it at all in the body. Oddly enough, I think the new Dodge Challenger (a perfectly awesome looking car if ever one existed) more closely echos the body lines of the '69 Camaro. My husband, not exactly a Mopar-lover, scoffs at my thoughts on the matter.
I was reading the Editor's Letter in Hot Rod magazine which actually makes a compelling case for buying a late-model project car rather than the hyper-idealized old school originals. They specifically compare '60s to '90s cars and there is just no contest who comes out on top. They basically state the obvious: Old cars weren't as comfortable and we have grown quite used to the creature comforts found in modern cars. I'd also add that old cars aren't nearly as desirable since being big and heavy doesn't necessarily equal safety. Damn, I've grown so old that I give a rip about safety ratings of vehicles!
If we take it on face value that a late-model project car would yield a better result, why do people romanticize old cars? I think it goes deeper than the vehicle itself. Those "old cars" weren't that old when these car owners were young men. These guys came of age lusting after those prime examples of American heavy metal. Time doesn't stop for any man, but owning a tits-version of those cars is some small way that they can attempt to reclaim lost youth. You might not be able to return to your late-teens or early-20s, but you can cruise around in the cars that represent that era.
What of my husband's '69 project car dreams? If he really wants to do it, I really hope he does it. And, when he's finished and ready to show off his sweet ride, his sweet girl will gladly cruise around in it with him.
My husband often waxes nostalgic for the cars of his youth. Specifically, he reminisces about his Camaros. He's owned two at this point in his life and, while I certainly did not know him when he owned them, it appears that he loved those cars. I came across a series of photographs of his '73 Camaro while cleaning out a closet several years ago. I found it humorous that he so loved this car that he actually burned a roll of film (not cheap in 1978 - the date stamped on the back of the photos) to document the awesomeness of his ride. He was in a few of the pictures too and, I must say, he was a tall drink of water. I joked that I totally would have been with him in those days. . .if I wasn't just three years old when those photos were taken, that is. I kept a close up of him from that series of pictures at my desk until I stopped working for wages. It now resides on our refrigerator so I can still see it every day.
For some reason that I can't possibly fathom, my husband loves white cars. For the record, I think white only belongs on fleet cars, but that's not his feeling. He has frequently detailed his quest to find the whitest white with the least bit of undertone when he was getting ready to paint his '67 Camaro. By the way, the whitest white was apparently from a '75 Cadillac El Dorado.
Though we live in what could be called a project house, my husband likes the idea of project cars. He is so desirous of a '69 Camaro convertible that I actually looked into buying a body for him several years ago. Let's just say that the cost was so prohibitive that I suggested he might want to buy a running car instead and call it a day.
The current crop of Camaros were supposedly inspired by the '69. I think the interior looks terrific (I've never met a gauge that I don't like), but I don't see it at all in the body. Oddly enough, I think the new Dodge Challenger (a perfectly awesome looking car if ever one existed) more closely echos the body lines of the '69 Camaro. My husband, not exactly a Mopar-lover, scoffs at my thoughts on the matter.
I was reading the Editor's Letter in Hot Rod magazine which actually makes a compelling case for buying a late-model project car rather than the hyper-idealized old school originals. They specifically compare '60s to '90s cars and there is just no contest who comes out on top. They basically state the obvious: Old cars weren't as comfortable and we have grown quite used to the creature comforts found in modern cars. I'd also add that old cars aren't nearly as desirable since being big and heavy doesn't necessarily equal safety. Damn, I've grown so old that I give a rip about safety ratings of vehicles!
If we take it on face value that a late-model project car would yield a better result, why do people romanticize old cars? I think it goes deeper than the vehicle itself. Those "old cars" weren't that old when these car owners were young men. These guys came of age lusting after those prime examples of American heavy metal. Time doesn't stop for any man, but owning a tits-version of those cars is some small way that they can attempt to reclaim lost youth. You might not be able to return to your late-teens or early-20s, but you can cruise around in the cars that represent that era.
What of my husband's '69 project car dreams? If he really wants to do it, I really hope he does it. And, when he's finished and ready to show off his sweet ride, his sweet girl will gladly cruise around in it with him.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Pondering the Third Pedal
As I've previously mentioned in this blog, I like to read Car and Driver magazine. I'm not exactly a member of their target audience. I'm not a gear-head, I've never liked the feeling of gear grease under my nails, and I don't have a penis. But I love the magazine because their camparos are clever, the writing is sharp, and they are often snarky & irreverent.
I sent my family to church yesterday morning without me and I settled down in the La-Z-Boy to read the current issue. I generally prefer to read a magazine cover to cover, meaning that I don't skip immediately the the most interesting articles. So I read the Editor's Letter first. I didn't get any further because I spent quite a bit of time reflecting on the content of the letter.
I have to say that Eddie Alterman (the current Editor-in-Chief) is no Csaba Csere. His prose is somewhat clumsy and I feel that it's similar to what Dennis Miller's half-wit brother would produce. Uh, not that I know anything about the intelligence of Dennis Miller's brother - or even if he has one at all! This letter was thought-provoking though.
He noted that very few new cars were being offered with manual transmissions. That's odd, but certainly not worthy of much more than a passing curiosity. But he tied the lack of manuals to the amount of driving teens on the road. That's where it gets really interesting.
According to the Washington Post, only about 30% of 16-year olds got their driver's licenses in 2008. Though I wasn't able to get my license until I was nearly 18-years old, that number seems really low to me. Why aren't kids driving?
Alterman thinks it's because teenagers have plenty of other fun things to do besides go cruising with friends on a Friday night. They can watch their parent's big-screen HDTVs, they can surf the web, they can immerse themselves in roll-playing games. I'll add that teenagers today have had the dangers of the world drilled into their heads from a very early age. For all I know, they are afraid to go driving around in search of fun because the wide open world is a scary place to them. Heck, their parents probably prohibit them from exploring the world from behind the wheel.
Alterman suggests that teens might be more interested in driving if they were to drive a stick. I agree that a manual transmission is far more fun to drive than an automatic. That third pedal equals excitement. From a safety standpoint, the need to manually shift gears also would significantly cut down on people dicking around with their cell phones (texting or chatting) while on the road.
My first car was a 1981 5-speed Toyota Celica. It was old, but it was fun! It was far from being a hot rod, but I can still remember the joy of ripping through the gears. I find it hard to believe that some people have no idea how to drive a stick. Driving that car basically ensured that I will be able to drive any automobile I'll ever own or rent. I sold it after three years for $100 less than I paid. So I only paid $100 to own and drive that car for over 1,000 days - what a bargain!
Why the lack of manual transmissions in the current offering of new cars? Well, because we grow lazy as we mature and grown ups are more likely to purchase new vehicles. We'd much rather have an automatic when suffering through an hour-long commute. So who should be buying manuals? Teenagers who don't have to drive in stop-&-go traffic! Generally, kids drive local (school, work, home) so shifting isn't a big deal.
If you've never driven a manual transmission, I highly recommend that you try it sometime. So much the better if it's a convertible. You'll stall out a few times at first. That's okay, it happens to everyone when they're learning.
Once you're comfortable shifting, find an empty road, drop the top, and run through the gears. I guarantee that you'll be hooked by the exhilarating joy of completely possessing a car. Note that I am not suggesting that you break any laws while dominating your vehicle.
Happy travels!
I sent my family to church yesterday morning without me and I settled down in the La-Z-Boy to read the current issue. I generally prefer to read a magazine cover to cover, meaning that I don't skip immediately the the most interesting articles. So I read the Editor's Letter first. I didn't get any further because I spent quite a bit of time reflecting on the content of the letter.
I have to say that Eddie Alterman (the current Editor-in-Chief) is no Csaba Csere. His prose is somewhat clumsy and I feel that it's similar to what Dennis Miller's half-wit brother would produce. Uh, not that I know anything about the intelligence of Dennis Miller's brother - or even if he has one at all! This letter was thought-provoking though.
He noted that very few new cars were being offered with manual transmissions. That's odd, but certainly not worthy of much more than a passing curiosity. But he tied the lack of manuals to the amount of driving teens on the road. That's where it gets really interesting.
According to the Washington Post, only about 30% of 16-year olds got their driver's licenses in 2008. Though I wasn't able to get my license until I was nearly 18-years old, that number seems really low to me. Why aren't kids driving?
Alterman thinks it's because teenagers have plenty of other fun things to do besides go cruising with friends on a Friday night. They can watch their parent's big-screen HDTVs, they can surf the web, they can immerse themselves in roll-playing games. I'll add that teenagers today have had the dangers of the world drilled into their heads from a very early age. For all I know, they are afraid to go driving around in search of fun because the wide open world is a scary place to them. Heck, their parents probably prohibit them from exploring the world from behind the wheel.
Alterman suggests that teens might be more interested in driving if they were to drive a stick. I agree that a manual transmission is far more fun to drive than an automatic. That third pedal equals excitement. From a safety standpoint, the need to manually shift gears also would significantly cut down on people dicking around with their cell phones (texting or chatting) while on the road.
My first car was a 1981 5-speed Toyota Celica. It was old, but it was fun! It was far from being a hot rod, but I can still remember the joy of ripping through the gears. I find it hard to believe that some people have no idea how to drive a stick. Driving that car basically ensured that I will be able to drive any automobile I'll ever own or rent. I sold it after three years for $100 less than I paid. So I only paid $100 to own and drive that car for over 1,000 days - what a bargain!
Why the lack of manual transmissions in the current offering of new cars? Well, because we grow lazy as we mature and grown ups are more likely to purchase new vehicles. We'd much rather have an automatic when suffering through an hour-long commute. So who should be buying manuals? Teenagers who don't have to drive in stop-&-go traffic! Generally, kids drive local (school, work, home) so shifting isn't a big deal.
If you've never driven a manual transmission, I highly recommend that you try it sometime. So much the better if it's a convertible. You'll stall out a few times at first. That's okay, it happens to everyone when they're learning.
Once you're comfortable shifting, find an empty road, drop the top, and run through the gears. I guarantee that you'll be hooked by the exhilarating joy of completely possessing a car. Note that I am not suggesting that you break any laws while dominating your vehicle.
Happy travels!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)