Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Back in the Saddle Again
In case you didn't know, I've been driving my truck a lot. I don't want to drive my truck again for a long time.
I went to a used car dealer determined to get Garrett a car. Get it over and done with. Upped my price range and went to buy a used Camry and came home with a deposit on an Accord. (No CD player.) One owner, who lived in Peabody. Did a CARFAX check, and well, it was in some sort of accident in 2001. I arranged to take it to my mechanic to check it out. After the CARFAX report, that was a given. Diagnosis was similar to the one on the much cheaper Dodge - it was due for plenty of work. Also, the accident repair was shoddy and wasn't going to last much longer before rusting. Once it was pointed out, it seemed so obvious. How could I ignore the trunk not fitting right? (Probably because I own a Chevy truck.) I got my deposit back and walked away. I've now spent a total of $186 on mechanic inspections to not buy two cars for Garrett.
The mechanic, sensing that I was in the market for a good cheap car, said he had a Volvo. What a POS it looked like. Needed a lot of work, but they were going to do it first. I don't have a favorable opinion on Volvos. My mechanic assures me that this was the last of the good years for Volvo, before, he hated to say it, Ford bought them and reliability took a dive. The price was right. Alice second-guessed the decision up until the moment we took delivery. (She probably still is, but hasn't mentioned it lately.) They installed new tires and new brakes and they fixed the non-working ABS. They even replaced the missing side molding. The driver's door handle sticks. He says it will get better now that it is lubed, but I doubt it, and they'll probably end up replacing it.
We surprised Garrett by picking him up from lacrosse practice in his 1997 Volvo 850 with 114K miles. It has a CD player and premium sound system. It has heated leather seats and a normally aspirated 20-valve 5-cylinder. (How Audi-like.) It has a hole from the trunk into the back seat through the arm rest (I suspect it is missing a ski sack there) for his lacrosse stick. It has adequate power to get out of its own way (lacking in a Volvo 240, which I briefly considered because it meets the standards of a parent of a teenager - safe and slow.) It will need a new timing belt in another 6,000 miles, which may be a year or two given the use Garrett will put it to.
I'm back in my Audi again. I'm driving it fast just because it feels secure and safe to do so. No need to slow down for that turn in this baby! (Oops. Well, maybe a little.) I'm listening to Incubis, or whatever weird crap Garrett left in the CD player. He's not one to clean up or ever retrieve it, so that CD is probably mine now. The truck can now sit (now that makes me happy!) until the next time I have to tow to the race track.
I used to wonder why people bought SUVs instead of cars, until I bought one for myself. Now I wonder even more. It feels good to be back in a car again.
In case you didn't know, I've been driving my truck a lot. I don't want to drive my truck again for a long time.
I went to a used car dealer determined to get Garrett a car. Get it over and done with. Upped my price range and went to buy a used Camry and came home with a deposit on an Accord. (No CD player.) One owner, who lived in Peabody. Did a CARFAX check, and well, it was in some sort of accident in 2001. I arranged to take it to my mechanic to check it out. After the CARFAX report, that was a given. Diagnosis was similar to the one on the much cheaper Dodge - it was due for plenty of work. Also, the accident repair was shoddy and wasn't going to last much longer before rusting. Once it was pointed out, it seemed so obvious. How could I ignore the trunk not fitting right? (Probably because I own a Chevy truck.) I got my deposit back and walked away. I've now spent a total of $186 on mechanic inspections to not buy two cars for Garrett.
The mechanic, sensing that I was in the market for a good cheap car, said he had a Volvo. What a POS it looked like. Needed a lot of work, but they were going to do it first. I don't have a favorable opinion on Volvos. My mechanic assures me that this was the last of the good years for Volvo, before, he hated to say it, Ford bought them and reliability took a dive. The price was right. Alice second-guessed the decision up until the moment we took delivery. (She probably still is, but hasn't mentioned it lately.) They installed new tires and new brakes and they fixed the non-working ABS. They even replaced the missing side molding. The driver's door handle sticks. He says it will get better now that it is lubed, but I doubt it, and they'll probably end up replacing it.
We surprised Garrett by picking him up from lacrosse practice in his 1997 Volvo 850 with 114K miles. It has a CD player and premium sound system. It has heated leather seats and a normally aspirated 20-valve 5-cylinder. (How Audi-like.) It has a hole from the trunk into the back seat through the arm rest (I suspect it is missing a ski sack there) for his lacrosse stick. It has adequate power to get out of its own way (lacking in a Volvo 240, which I briefly considered because it meets the standards of a parent of a teenager - safe and slow.) It will need a new timing belt in another 6,000 miles, which may be a year or two given the use Garrett will put it to.
I'm back in my Audi again. I'm driving it fast just because it feels secure and safe to do so. No need to slow down for that turn in this baby! (Oops. Well, maybe a little.) I'm listening to Incubis, or whatever weird crap Garrett left in the CD player. He's not one to clean up or ever retrieve it, so that CD is probably mine now. The truck can now sit (now that makes me happy!) until the next time I have to tow to the race track.
I used to wonder why people bought SUVs instead of cars, until I bought one for myself. Now I wonder even more. It feels good to be back in a car again.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Waiting to Fly
Walter wrote about our parents who forced us to eat food we detested. It's true. I remember having to finish my glass of milk after it had gotten too warm and I really didn't want it. I'd mentally prepare myself, pretending it was grape juice, my favorite at the time, and then attempt to chug it down. I nearly barfed at least once - probably many times, but they all blend together.
Only a few years ago, Walter told me how it came to be that he was thrown out of the house and moved in with our grandmother. It was because he wouldn't eat his slice of tomato. He was ordered to, and he refused. There was a huge blowup, and he was permanently thrown out of the house.
As incredulous as I was over the story, what really later astonished me, especially regarding how long it took for me to even realize it, was that I must have been there. He is older than I, and I had to have been there at dinner. After a few hours or days, it gradually came back to me. I always sat at the end of the table opposite Dad. (The same general area where I remember nearly puking on warm milk, lima beans, and liver, too.) Walter sat across from Mom, next to Dad. There was arguing and shouting and I was just looking down hard at my plate, not looking up, thinking, "Eat the goddam slice of tomato! Just eat the goddam tomato." People standing at the table shouting over a slice of tomato. I totally repressed it from my memory until I spent a few hours trying to dredge it out. And thus, my brother was thrown out of the house, never to move back in.
He took a stand on how much he could be controlled, and the result was like a bird being pushed from the nest by its parents, with a wild and preposterous argument. Off he flew.
I never had the gumption to take a stand. I just bided my time until I was old enough, and then off I flew. My entire childhood was spent waiting to be old enough to fly.
Walter wrote about our parents who forced us to eat food we detested. It's true. I remember having to finish my glass of milk after it had gotten too warm and I really didn't want it. I'd mentally prepare myself, pretending it was grape juice, my favorite at the time, and then attempt to chug it down. I nearly barfed at least once - probably many times, but they all blend together.
Only a few years ago, Walter told me how it came to be that he was thrown out of the house and moved in with our grandmother. It was because he wouldn't eat his slice of tomato. He was ordered to, and he refused. There was a huge blowup, and he was permanently thrown out of the house.
As incredulous as I was over the story, what really later astonished me, especially regarding how long it took for me to even realize it, was that I must have been there. He is older than I, and I had to have been there at dinner. After a few hours or days, it gradually came back to me. I always sat at the end of the table opposite Dad. (The same general area where I remember nearly puking on warm milk, lima beans, and liver, too.) Walter sat across from Mom, next to Dad. There was arguing and shouting and I was just looking down hard at my plate, not looking up, thinking, "Eat the goddam slice of tomato! Just eat the goddam tomato." People standing at the table shouting over a slice of tomato. I totally repressed it from my memory until I spent a few hours trying to dredge it out. And thus, my brother was thrown out of the house, never to move back in.
He took a stand on how much he could be controlled, and the result was like a bird being pushed from the nest by its parents, with a wild and preposterous argument. Off he flew.
I never had the gumption to take a stand. I just bided my time until I was old enough, and then off I flew. My entire childhood was spent waiting to be old enough to fly.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
"You Can't Get There From Heah"
(What We Need Are Glaciers That Ran Sideways)
Alice put me in charge of organizing a trip with Garrett to visit colleges at the beginning of his spring vacation before resumption of lacrosse practices. "Organize" and "me" don't go together very well, but I pulled it off. I figured out a nice order to visit the colleges Garrett was interested in. I made hotel reservations. I remembered to bring the notebook with the colleges we were visiting and directions to them. The only thing I forgot was a map, but that's OK because my Audi has a navigation system so the directions wouldn't really be necessary anyway.
We drove to Utica in the evening and stayed in a hotel, whence we would leave in the morning for Colgate, which is in Hamilton, NY. I programmed in "Hamilton" into the nav system, and it promptly told me it was 350 kilometers in a preposterous direction, and that I was off the map. When I bought my used Audi, a navigation system was a requirement, but I didn't know that there was NAV-C (the "old system") and NAV-D (the "new system"). Guess which one I have? Even if I had the new system, it still might have had the same problem, which is that it runs off CDs, and my car came with the mid-Atlantic CD (being a Pennsylvania car) and I have a north-Atlantic CD, and central and western New York turn out to be on the Ohio Valley CD. Good thing I had the notebook with directions, and good thing I allowed plenty of time. We got lost, and got to Colgate with a minute to spare before the information session. From Colgate, it was on to Hamilton College (which is not in Hamilton, but in Clinton) where Garrett's cousin Danielle is an official tour guide and gave us a private tour, complete with lots of information usually left off the real tours.
From there we went to Syracuse to visit Garrett's cousin Rachel, and her son Jared, my new great nephew. I now have two great nephews. Rachel's sister Dori was there, so Garrett saw three first cousins in one day.
We had a whirlwind tour the next day, Sunday, when all the admissions offices are closed, so I cleverly visited Union, where we got a private tour from our next door neighbor who attends, and then Williams, where we got a tour from yet a fourth first cousin, Adam, who attends there. It seems it was Easter, and finding a place to eat wasn't so easy. From Williams, we went up into Vermont to see Middlebury. I figured with a 12% acceptance rate and an admitted student grade average of A, Garrett doesn't have much chance of getting into Middlebury, so visiting it on Sunday when we couldn't get an official tour was as good a day as any. Why waste a Saturday or Monday tour?
Middlebury is at about the same longitude as our house at Loon Mountain in New Hampshire, so we headed there to spend the night. Google had suggested a particularly roundabout route which avoided any semblance of east/west direction, so when my nav system (we were back on the map in New England) suggested a different way, I took it. It directed me to turn onto a road with a sign:
I had no idea whether we intended to go through Warren (I have Nav-C, remember, which being primitive, tells you what to do but won't let you know where that might be taking you) but I had a sneaking suspicion that we probably were. That is, my nav system was directing me over a mountain road that is closed in the winter. After a short time on the side of the road, I figured that logging truck had to have come from really high up the mountain, and that pickup going up was probably going somewhere, and this being one of the least snowy winters in memory, there was no sign of snow on any mountain, any where. I proceeded as directed, hoping that if the road were closed, that it at least wouldn't be blocked off. Besides, the nav system indicated I'd be turning soon. (It turns out that you have to make a few turns to get to Warren.)
Eventually the pavement ended, at another sign suggesting I shouldn't try to get to Warren. Eventually, pavement reappeared, which seemed a good sign at first, but really was because the road became so steep that an unpaved one would probably promptly perish in the runoff. (How about that alliteration? Try whispering "Purple people please pious popes" in someone's ear some time. But I digress.) The usual switchbacks were present, but in fewer quantity than most roads, as this went straight up. Occasionally the nav system would decide we were not on a road, and just point in the general direction of Loon, and then figure out where we were and say, "Continue to follow the road." We reached the summit ("Yea!!!") only to discover the road was covered with snow! -- for only a few feet. There were patches of snow on that side of the mountain on the top 100 feet or so, and there was a car parked up there, probably a hiker (or someone who hadn't made it to Warren the month before.) Downhill seemed steeper, and first gear couldn't hold a safe speed, so I was on the brakes plenty. Garrett commented a couple of times that he was glad I was driving. We eventually came to a sign facing the other way, mostly blocking the road. I had to stop to let an oncoming vehicle pass the sign before I could go around the sign. Garrett says it said the road was closed.
Having crossed a mountain range, we were set for a great journey. We wound up on Route 100, and were directed to turn right on Main Street. As soon as I complied, it said, "When possible, make a U-turn." I went back to Route 100, and where it thought Main Street was, there wasn't. As soon as I passed where it thought it should be, it advised me once again to continue to follow the road, this time Route 100. Readers not from Vermont may not realize that Route 100 is a well-known road that travels north/south through the middle of the mountains, passing lots of ski areas. When I came to Smuggler's Notch, I knew I had been led astray. I've never been that far north on Route 100. Ooh, a map would have been nice. Eventually I wound up on I-89 north of Montpelier, heading back south. I was fuming. Stupid nav system. Montpelier! (In Quebec, they call it "Montpelier", which if you speak French, is obviously pronounced "Moan-pel-yay".) Those Google directions were beginning to look pretty good.
Having arrived at Loon (after dinner at the excellent Chinese restaurant in Lincoln, NH, which is always open on the major Christian holidays like Christmas and Easter), I checked Google to see where we'd gone, and where we should have gone. In retrospect, the nav system did a pretty good job, taking us no more off course than the Google southern route. Had it or I correctly identified Main Street (which on Google, was little lines making the bigger closed road seem a major highway) we would have saved quite a bit of distance and avoided (in French, please) Montpelier.
There just isn't an east/west route through the mountains. Either the natural geology, or the damn glaciers, carved everything north/south. Every road runs north/south, with an occasional exception at a slight diagonal. Additional exceptions that are more direct are closed in the winter.
The next morning with Garrett driving, I turned on the nav system to get us to UNH, in Durham. Garrett said, "I thought you were never going to use the nav system again."
"That was before I checked Google last night and decided it really wasn't so bad. You just can't get here from there."
After programming in "Durham", the nav system suggested that when possible, Garrett should make a U-turn and head the wrong way, presumably into Maine. I then programmed in "Durham, Town of" and verified it was telling us to go the correct way, checking my notebook directions.
(What We Need Are Glaciers That Ran Sideways)
Alice put me in charge of organizing a trip with Garrett to visit colleges at the beginning of his spring vacation before resumption of lacrosse practices. "Organize" and "me" don't go together very well, but I pulled it off. I figured out a nice order to visit the colleges Garrett was interested in. I made hotel reservations. I remembered to bring the notebook with the colleges we were visiting and directions to them. The only thing I forgot was a map, but that's OK because my Audi has a navigation system so the directions wouldn't really be necessary anyway.
We drove to Utica in the evening and stayed in a hotel, whence we would leave in the morning for Colgate, which is in Hamilton, NY. I programmed in "Hamilton" into the nav system, and it promptly told me it was 350 kilometers in a preposterous direction, and that I was off the map. When I bought my used Audi, a navigation system was a requirement, but I didn't know that there was NAV-C (the "old system") and NAV-D (the "new system"). Guess which one I have? Even if I had the new system, it still might have had the same problem, which is that it runs off CDs, and my car came with the mid-Atlantic CD (being a Pennsylvania car) and I have a north-Atlantic CD, and central and western New York turn out to be on the Ohio Valley CD. Good thing I had the notebook with directions, and good thing I allowed plenty of time. We got lost, and got to Colgate with a minute to spare before the information session. From Colgate, it was on to Hamilton College (which is not in Hamilton, but in Clinton) where Garrett's cousin Danielle is an official tour guide and gave us a private tour, complete with lots of information usually left off the real tours.
From there we went to Syracuse to visit Garrett's cousin Rachel, and her son Jared, my new great nephew. I now have two great nephews. Rachel's sister Dori was there, so Garrett saw three first cousins in one day.
We had a whirlwind tour the next day, Sunday, when all the admissions offices are closed, so I cleverly visited Union, where we got a private tour from our next door neighbor who attends, and then Williams, where we got a tour from yet a fourth first cousin, Adam, who attends there. It seems it was Easter, and finding a place to eat wasn't so easy. From Williams, we went up into Vermont to see Middlebury. I figured with a 12% acceptance rate and an admitted student grade average of A, Garrett doesn't have much chance of getting into Middlebury, so visiting it on Sunday when we couldn't get an official tour was as good a day as any. Why waste a Saturday or Monday tour?
Middlebury is at about the same longitude as our house at Loon Mountain in New Hampshire, so we headed there to spend the night. Google had suggested a particularly roundabout route which avoided any semblance of east/west direction, so when my nav system (we were back on the map in New England) suggested a different way, I took it. It directed me to turn onto a road with a sign:
Road closed to Warren
I had no idea whether we intended to go through Warren (I have Nav-C, remember, which being primitive, tells you what to do but won't let you know where that might be taking you) but I had a sneaking suspicion that we probably were. That is, my nav system was directing me over a mountain road that is closed in the winter. After a short time on the side of the road, I figured that logging truck had to have come from really high up the mountain, and that pickup going up was probably going somewhere, and this being one of the least snowy winters in memory, there was no sign of snow on any mountain, any where. I proceeded as directed, hoping that if the road were closed, that it at least wouldn't be blocked off. Besides, the nav system indicated I'd be turning soon. (It turns out that you have to make a few turns to get to Warren.)
Eventually the pavement ended, at another sign suggesting I shouldn't try to get to Warren. Eventually, pavement reappeared, which seemed a good sign at first, but really was because the road became so steep that an unpaved one would probably promptly perish in the runoff. (How about that alliteration? Try whispering "Purple people please pious popes" in someone's ear some time. But I digress.) The usual switchbacks were present, but in fewer quantity than most roads, as this went straight up. Occasionally the nav system would decide we were not on a road, and just point in the general direction of Loon, and then figure out where we were and say, "Continue to follow the road." We reached the summit ("Yea!!!") only to discover the road was covered with snow! -- for only a few feet. There were patches of snow on that side of the mountain on the top 100 feet or so, and there was a car parked up there, probably a hiker (or someone who hadn't made it to Warren the month before.) Downhill seemed steeper, and first gear couldn't hold a safe speed, so I was on the brakes plenty. Garrett commented a couple of times that he was glad I was driving. We eventually came to a sign facing the other way, mostly blocking the road. I had to stop to let an oncoming vehicle pass the sign before I could go around the sign. Garrett says it said the road was closed.
Having crossed a mountain range, we were set for a great journey. We wound up on Route 100, and were directed to turn right on Main Street. As soon as I complied, it said, "When possible, make a U-turn." I went back to Route 100, and where it thought Main Street was, there wasn't. As soon as I passed where it thought it should be, it advised me once again to continue to follow the road, this time Route 100. Readers not from Vermont may not realize that Route 100 is a well-known road that travels north/south through the middle of the mountains, passing lots of ski areas. When I came to Smuggler's Notch, I knew I had been led astray. I've never been that far north on Route 100. Ooh, a map would have been nice. Eventually I wound up on I-89 north of Montpelier, heading back south. I was fuming. Stupid nav system. Montpelier! (In Quebec, they call it "Montpelier", which if you speak French, is obviously pronounced "Moan-pel-yay".) Those Google directions were beginning to look pretty good.
Having arrived at Loon (after dinner at the excellent Chinese restaurant in Lincoln, NH, which is always open on the major Christian holidays like Christmas and Easter), I checked Google to see where we'd gone, and where we should have gone. In retrospect, the nav system did a pretty good job, taking us no more off course than the Google southern route. Had it or I correctly identified Main Street (which on Google, was little lines making the bigger closed road seem a major highway) we would have saved quite a bit of distance and avoided (in French, please) Montpelier.
There just isn't an east/west route through the mountains. Either the natural geology, or the damn glaciers, carved everything north/south. Every road runs north/south, with an occasional exception at a slight diagonal. Additional exceptions that are more direct are closed in the winter.
The next morning with Garrett driving, I turned on the nav system to get us to UNH, in Durham. Garrett said, "I thought you were never going to use the nav system again."
"That was before I checked Google last night and decided it really wasn't so bad. You just can't get here from there."
After programming in "Durham", the nav system suggested that when possible, Garrett should make a U-turn and head the wrong way, presumably into Maine. I then programmed in "Durham, Town of" and verified it was telling us to go the correct way, checking my notebook directions.
Fire Away!
I remember Carolyn once talking about Laura singing The Who's "Squeeze Box" at an age where she clearly had no idea what the lyrics were really about. I got my first dose of that today. While Katie was getting ready for bed, I heard her singing,
"Hit me with your best shot.
Fire away!"
Oy vey!
I remember Carolyn once talking about Laura singing The Who's "Squeeze Box" at an age where she clearly had no idea what the lyrics were really about. I got my first dose of that today. While Katie was getting ready for bed, I heard her singing,
"Hit me with your best shot.
Fire away!"
Oy vey!
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Car Search: Saved by the Transmission Leak
"It's against the law for a teenager to drive an Audi A8." Thus spake my boss when I told him I really needed to get my son a car so he wouldn't be driving mine. He went on to elaborate that it was also against the law for a teenager to have a car with leather seats. Ohh. Pretty strong opinion. I'd love nothing more than to find a really reliable brand of car, say an Acura, pretty old but with a lot of life left in it, for dirt cheap. You think I'll find an Acura with cloth? No way.
My boss also felt that Garrett's refusal to drive my truck was a ruse to drive the A8. Well, yes and no. I don't like driving the truck, and I can imagine that it is even harder for him. The only time he drove it he hit a tree (with the passenger mirror. It didn't seem to damage it, as it was already damaged from the previous owner hitting something.) "You're too far right, you're too far right!" [Wap.] "Son of a virgin [or some such thing], when I say you're too far right I mean you're too far right! Uh, well actually, don't feel bad. I've hit things with that mirror, too, and so did the previous owner." He has refused to drive it since hitting the tree. I, on the other hand, am now driving it way more than I would like and find it like driving a race car at speed. You are always on the hairy edge of control, fighting to keep it on the road. However, it's lacking the razor sharp turn in, brakes and handling of the race car. The hairy edge of control is the only similar characteristic. It's that lack of handling that makes control something requiring advance planning, as if the steering and brakes were mere suggestions of intent. It's not something you want to inflict on a new driver. I suggested that Garrett should drive the truck, since it was worth way less and would be cheaper to repair, and he replied, "So you want to make that trade-off against the near certainty that I will crash it?" Thus, Garrett drives a 2001 310HP Audi A8 while I drive my 1996 Chevy Tahoe. When I get in my A8, there is weird-sounding stuff in the CD player. The truck at least does have a CD player, which race cars do not. I hope the cars around me don't realize how close to the edge of handling that truck is, and I wonder at all the other SUVs out there being driven like cars.
I looked at a 1993 $3000 (or best offer) Acura Vigor with 128,000 miles. That ad had been on cars.com for while, so I figured the guy would be anxious to get rid of it and I was thinking $2500. That was before I saw it. Nothing seriously wrong except that the brakes pulled hard left, and there was no evidence that the ABS could prevent wheel lockup. The ABS light didn't even know enough to light up and say it wasn't working. Apparently Vigors collect water (which in New England winter, would be salt water) right at the back of the rear doors. Although the car seemed to be solid overall, the finger probe of the little rust spot visible when you opened the back door went right through. "Oops. Sorry I knocked off that paint." It had a cool CD player that would play mp3 CDs, and of course, leather. I only offered $2200. The "best offer" part of the ad was apparently to get gullible people like me to come look. He still owed $3200 on the car, and wasn't about to budge.
Disheartened, I upped my price range and a much newer car caught my eye. A 2000 (wow!) Dodge Stratus with only 88,000 miles! Practically new. Being sold reasonably cheaply because the owner has already been transferred to Europe. I've driven a Dodge Stratus loaner from the Audi dealer once when my car was in for service. I thought it pretty risky of the Audi dealer to be presenting unhappy Audi owners (whose Audis are, of course, in the shop) with a pretty decent car, not as nice as an Audi, but which only costs half as much! It gets you thinking, and provoking thoughts like that isn't a good sales technique unless you're the Dodge salesman. I looked at this car at night. Seemed pretty OK. It was missing a hubcap and the right rear power window didn't operate. The friend of the owner and I agreed on a price of $3300, pending seeing it in daylight. A day or two went by while we tried to figure out how to arrange our schedule for me to get the car looked at by mechanic and get him paid and so forth. He didn't take a deposit, and was worried that there were lots of other calls on it while I had it tied up. I assured him that I would buy it, barring something really wrong with the car. The guy drove it to my mechanic's (again at night) where we left it and I gave him a ride back home. Strangely, Garrett wasn't interested in seeing it, as he trusted me.
Next morning I stopped to see the car in the daylight. The tires didn't match. The rears were in good shape but the fronts were pretty worn. It looked like someone had tried to break into the driver's door, as the lock wasn't sitting against the door properly. Hmmm.
Later that day, I got a call from Alice. "I just thought of something. Does it have a CD player?" No, it does not. "That's a deal breaker." My mind races. It should be against the law for teenagers to be futzing with CDs while driving a car. (My teenager futzes with one while driving my A8!) You don't choose what cheapo used car you buy based on a CD player! I can't back out of this deal after tying the guys car up for the first 3 days his ad is out based on no CD player. Alice continues, "Garrett has to have a CD player. He'll hate it." That'll teach him to not look at the car. I'm thinking he can use his iPod, played through the radio using that FM device he lost long ago. It sounds like a barely acceptable compromise to Alice. "The car has to have a CD player."
The mechanic's voice sounds a little strange. It doesn't sound like good news. "It's missing a hubcap and the right rear window doesn't work. Since it doesn't work with either switch, it is probably the motor, not the switch." (Tell me something I don't know.) He continues, "The front tires are worn out and the rear tires are cupped." (GAK! Something must be wrong with the alignment or suspension.) "I recommend four new tires. The car has never had a tuneup, and at close to 90,000 miles, all the belts are cracked and it needs a lot of work. The hood and right side back to the rear passenger door has been repainted. The transmission is leaking from at least 2 places -- I didn't have time to check exactly where from. It needs at least $1200 worth of work. But of course, the transmission could be more."
And it didn't have a CD player, either, so I walked away.
"It's against the law for a teenager to drive an Audi A8." Thus spake my boss when I told him I really needed to get my son a car so he wouldn't be driving mine. He went on to elaborate that it was also against the law for a teenager to have a car with leather seats. Ohh. Pretty strong opinion. I'd love nothing more than to find a really reliable brand of car, say an Acura, pretty old but with a lot of life left in it, for dirt cheap. You think I'll find an Acura with cloth? No way.
My boss also felt that Garrett's refusal to drive my truck was a ruse to drive the A8. Well, yes and no. I don't like driving the truck, and I can imagine that it is even harder for him. The only time he drove it he hit a tree (with the passenger mirror. It didn't seem to damage it, as it was already damaged from the previous owner hitting something.) "You're too far right, you're too far right!" [Wap.] "Son of a virgin [or some such thing], when I say you're too far right I mean you're too far right! Uh, well actually, don't feel bad. I've hit things with that mirror, too, and so did the previous owner." He has refused to drive it since hitting the tree. I, on the other hand, am now driving it way more than I would like and find it like driving a race car at speed. You are always on the hairy edge of control, fighting to keep it on the road. However, it's lacking the razor sharp turn in, brakes and handling of the race car. The hairy edge of control is the only similar characteristic. It's that lack of handling that makes control something requiring advance planning, as if the steering and brakes were mere suggestions of intent. It's not something you want to inflict on a new driver. I suggested that Garrett should drive the truck, since it was worth way less and would be cheaper to repair, and he replied, "So you want to make that trade-off against the near certainty that I will crash it?" Thus, Garrett drives a 2001 310HP Audi A8 while I drive my 1996 Chevy Tahoe. When I get in my A8, there is weird-sounding stuff in the CD player. The truck at least does have a CD player, which race cars do not. I hope the cars around me don't realize how close to the edge of handling that truck is, and I wonder at all the other SUVs out there being driven like cars.
I looked at a 1993 $3000 (or best offer) Acura Vigor with 128,000 miles. That ad had been on cars.com for while, so I figured the guy would be anxious to get rid of it and I was thinking $2500. That was before I saw it. Nothing seriously wrong except that the brakes pulled hard left, and there was no evidence that the ABS could prevent wheel lockup. The ABS light didn't even know enough to light up and say it wasn't working. Apparently Vigors collect water (which in New England winter, would be salt water) right at the back of the rear doors. Although the car seemed to be solid overall, the finger probe of the little rust spot visible when you opened the back door went right through. "Oops. Sorry I knocked off that paint." It had a cool CD player that would play mp3 CDs, and of course, leather. I only offered $2200. The "best offer" part of the ad was apparently to get gullible people like me to come look. He still owed $3200 on the car, and wasn't about to budge.
Disheartened, I upped my price range and a much newer car caught my eye. A 2000 (wow!) Dodge Stratus with only 88,000 miles! Practically new. Being sold reasonably cheaply because the owner has already been transferred to Europe. I've driven a Dodge Stratus loaner from the Audi dealer once when my car was in for service. I thought it pretty risky of the Audi dealer to be presenting unhappy Audi owners (whose Audis are, of course, in the shop) with a pretty decent car, not as nice as an Audi, but which only costs half as much! It gets you thinking, and provoking thoughts like that isn't a good sales technique unless you're the Dodge salesman. I looked at this car at night. Seemed pretty OK. It was missing a hubcap and the right rear power window didn't operate. The friend of the owner and I agreed on a price of $3300, pending seeing it in daylight. A day or two went by while we tried to figure out how to arrange our schedule for me to get the car looked at by mechanic and get him paid and so forth. He didn't take a deposit, and was worried that there were lots of other calls on it while I had it tied up. I assured him that I would buy it, barring something really wrong with the car. The guy drove it to my mechanic's (again at night) where we left it and I gave him a ride back home. Strangely, Garrett wasn't interested in seeing it, as he trusted me.
Next morning I stopped to see the car in the daylight. The tires didn't match. The rears were in good shape but the fronts were pretty worn. It looked like someone had tried to break into the driver's door, as the lock wasn't sitting against the door properly. Hmmm.
Later that day, I got a call from Alice. "I just thought of something. Does it have a CD player?" No, it does not. "That's a deal breaker." My mind races. It should be against the law for teenagers to be futzing with CDs while driving a car. (My teenager futzes with one while driving my A8!) You don't choose what cheapo used car you buy based on a CD player! I can't back out of this deal after tying the guys car up for the first 3 days his ad is out based on no CD player. Alice continues, "Garrett has to have a CD player. He'll hate it." That'll teach him to not look at the car. I'm thinking he can use his iPod, played through the radio using that FM device he lost long ago. It sounds like a barely acceptable compromise to Alice. "The car has to have a CD player."
The mechanic's voice sounds a little strange. It doesn't sound like good news. "It's missing a hubcap and the right rear window doesn't work. Since it doesn't work with either switch, it is probably the motor, not the switch." (Tell me something I don't know.) He continues, "The front tires are worn out and the rear tires are cupped." (GAK! Something must be wrong with the alignment or suspension.) "I recommend four new tires. The car has never had a tuneup, and at close to 90,000 miles, all the belts are cracked and it needs a lot of work. The hood and right side back to the rear passenger door has been repainted. The transmission is leaking from at least 2 places -- I didn't have time to check exactly where from. It needs at least $1200 worth of work. But of course, the transmission could be more."
And it didn't have a CD player, either, so I walked away.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
The Timing Just Isn't Right
I know I had an opinion on something when I went to create this blog, but now I can't remember what it was.
I know I had an opinion on something when I went to create this blog, but now I can't remember what it was.
