2011 Chevy Impala LT Review

This morning, I dropped Zyvelles off at the body shop and picked up a rental car.  More on that later. For now, I've decided to do a quick review of the rental car.  (This was the original introduction that I wrote maybe a month ago.  Sorry for such a delay on this post.)

As an introduction, thoughts from the user reviews at MSN Autos:

“Did the interior designers ever sit in this car?”

“I like the styling and performance of the Impala, the car has a show of Class!”  (Notice that capital “c.”  That's sincerity.)

“Flimsy feeling interior parts, loose handling at limits”

“This thing is really easy to drive, and really easy to like.”

“It's not a bad car, but I cannot think of any compelling reason to pick it over anything else.”

Dial controlled headlights.  Volume buttons on the wheel.  Triangular side mirrors.  A brake pedal.  A gas pedal.  AM/FM radio reception.

Crushing mediocrity?

Welcome to Mildred.  She is a 2011 white Chevy Impala.  She has 28,000 something miles (well, 29,000 something now) and a 211 HP V6.  And of course, standard on all Impalas, a 4-speed automatic.  Compared to our Corolla, she is like a lumbering polar bear strapped to a rocket.

[...Couldn't find a picture for that.]

I've driven an Impala once before, when I was valeting, and I really liked driving that one the half mile or so we shared together.   So when the friendly (and kinda cute!) rental car guy pointed at the Impala and said it was the one reserved for me, I was fairly pleased—especially since it was in this nice crisp white with a black interior.  At first glance, the front fascia of the Impala comes off looking a little surprised and clueless, which makes it an appropriate choice for a rental car.

"Another driver!  ...You're not going to abuse me like the others, are you?" (1)

Now of course, my tenure with Mildred only lasted one week.  Not quite a one night stand, but certainly not a full-blown relationship.  In contrast to our Corolla, when you get into this car the windshield seems vast, the A-pillars skinny, the car extra-wide, and the interior extra black.  Everything's great!  But then you notice the side mirrors.

They're triangular. (2)

They're triangular.  I've seen mirrors like them before.  Why exactly are we actively attempting to maximize “style” while minimizing visibility?  Properly adjusted, I can see three full lanes all the way back in the Corolla, and I don't have to worry about the mirror cutting me if I brush against it as I walk by.  These Impala mirrors show me maybe one lane and pose a danger of serious injury as a bonus.  Heinous.  How am I supposed to watch out for danger out of the corner of my eye when looking a second lane to the left necessitates major bodily finagling?  Congratulations; you've designed a side mirror that is useful only for flamingoes.

I mean, I might not see this guy coming up behind me until he was next to me.

With his fiery roof luggage. (3)

I should also note that the glove compartment opens really slowly and takes some force.   I felt the same way opening it as I do when I'm trying to get a foreign object out of my cat's mouth, and that's an uncomfortable feeling.

One important thing (in fact, the first and worst negative thing I noticed about this car) is that the brake pedal and the gas pedal are not anywhere close to being on the same plane.  When I'm driving, I like to be able to rest my heel and press either the gas or the brake pedal with the ball of my foot.  When I tried that with this car (fortunately, it was while I was backing out of a parking space at maybe 2 MPH), the side of the top of my foot hit the side of the brake pedal as I pivoted.  Here is a graphic so you can understand the approximate relative positions of the pedals.

I added a linear scale for perspective. (4)

Also, I should mention that together, using our 211 horses, Mildred and I successfully ticked off the driver of a brand new 5-series.  (Bonus points!)

So since this is a “review” (or something) I am required to come to a conclusion regarding the car.  Should you buy it?  Should you assent to taking it as a rental car?  Should you refuse to set foot in it and have violent and involuntary negative physiological reactions when you see it out of the corner of your eye?  Well, I have some easy answers.

No, you should not buy this car.   If I'm gonna drop 25 to 30 thousand dollars on a car, it better be entertaining.  This one's not.

Yes, you can rent it.  The whole point of renting a car is for it to be a hassle and for you not to really enjoy it (because if you like the car too much and didn't get the insurance...well...), so it's best to opt for cars that don't provide too much excitement.  Mildred and I drove very safely while we were together, because I didn't take any insurance out on her and, frankly, because she didn't tempt me to act otherwise.

No, you should not refuse to set foot in it—the safety ratings actually look pretty good and if you look at the crash test photos (they're on MSN Autos, which we all know by now is my favorite quick info site), the safety cage is really well maintained.  Although that does happen in most vehicles today as far as I'm aware.

No, you should not have violent reactions to it.  Poor control over your involuntary reactions is a sign of weakness.

Basically the take-home point is the car was okay.  But it's not really That Great.

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So starting with this post, I'm going to really try to be good about sourcing my photos.  Many of the ones I've put up are ones I've messed with, and in the future when I mess with them I'll source the originals.  As you can tell I'm doing it with footnotes so I don't have to break the flow of the actual text as much.  Basically, I know that if I took as cool a picture as the picture of the flaming car is, I would want that credited.  Oh and you can assume from now on that if I don't credit a photo that photo is mine, although I'll try to mention it for the sake of clarity.

1) mine

2) mine

3) https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6eu2qmKgRgLGo-Q4mKd3MeXbolHnSWFuudEZLmVICq8IIaiaFdaibn9L_3pmRnbs3lzE3o55hkxKkVCWqcyaSjJGOV6zRSl0UhrrUJukwFsEXpwK5AOvvp0H-zc2SCHMzrXP9nHwu-3w/s1600/car_fire_2.jpg

4) mine

Roads of Atlanta

The road my husband and I live off of is long and winding and spotted with stoplights in all the curves.  If you took out a pencil and paper, and made a nice long squiggle that didn't intersect itself, you would have a pretty good approximation of the road we live on.  If you then put a dash at the point of every squiggly curve, and you thought of those as stoplights, you would have a pretty good idea of how terrifying the road is.  Nowadays, since I've been driving down this road for about a year, I know where all the stoplights are.  I've learned that there's this one particular one where everyone slows to about 25 or 30 because the people turning left from the other direction are totally blind to you and could at any point be shooting off in front of you for you to t-bone them to death.  (But because this is Atlanta, no one really cares that you might kill someone--the problem is really that insurance claims are such a hassle.)  But imagine how awful it was when I first drove onto the road, straight off of I-20 (which is, on top of everything, in the more businessey and trafficky part of the road), and had to undergo a crash course in Atlanta driving immediately.

It was a "merge" intersection...  You have the light for folks turning left, but you had that nice little merging triangle median set up, directing folks who wanted to turn right towards the right (where you then sat, at an angle to the traffic you were watching out for, until you gathered up the courage to jump out in front of someone at a distance much too close to you for you to be comfortable with, or until you died of old age).  All my life I had been driving in Columbia or Durham or on the highway.  There had been traffic, sure.  But there was never traffic like this.  And on top of everything, I was in Birdy (may she rest in peace) and Jamie was in Zyvelles, so we had to find a space that was good enough for both of us to go, so I could follow Jamie to the apartments we were moving into.  I don't really remember how we got out into the traffic.  But it happened as a stomp-the-gas-stomp-the-brake sort of maneuver, and then we were "safely" embedded in the throngs of suicidal maniacs we call "drivers" here in the great city of Atlanta.

People in Atlanta aren't friendly, I quickly learned.  If I left a reasonable amount of space between me and Jamie, like a "I don't want to crash into my husband" kind of space, someone immediately jumped in (presumably because the lane they were in was crawling along at a slightly slower pace than we were).  Inevitably that person would then want to turn left (likely at the next light) and then block the lane until some idiot in the left-turn lane let them in.  So this is what I was confronted with, after a lifetime of exposure to a shared "No no, you go first!!" driving mentality across most of the Carolinas.  And then there was the road.  Of course the road I was dealing with couldn't be straight and reasonable.  It was THIS road.  It was curves in the middle of intersections with poorly marked lanes, it was stoplights five feet from each other, it was the left lane and then the right lane occasionally cutting off with little or no warning, it was pedestrians trying to enjoy themselves in the business district (who I'm sure were at constant fear for their own lives since all they could seem to do was jump out in front of cars).  And so I'm going along in my little stick (clutch in clutch out to first clutch in clutch out to neutral) jealously guarding my position behind Zyvelles and keeping my eyes peeled for Darwin Award-esque attempts at street-crossing suicide.  And we go and we go and we go.  And it gets better.  We cross a major road and go into a more tree-filled area with more residential-looking lots, a two-lane section instead of a four-lane section (still jampacked with cars), we go past the street crossing we know is right before our apartment and...we go past our apartment.  Jamie calls me.  "I think we missed it."  I say, "You think we missed what."  So we turn around, turning left in front of a lot of incoming traffic to turn around in a cramped parking lot (the parking lot of an ABC store we would later become loyal to), and then attempting to turn right into a constant stream of angry people wielding cars.  We finally got to the apartment complex.

Now I'm just fine with this road.  I drive on it every day.  I make sure I sufficiently underestimate the other drivers' sanity, perception, and reaction time, and I haven't killed anyone yet.  I'm gradually becoming more angry than scared when I'm driving here, and so that may be a sign that I'm sliding into the Atlanta driver mentality. 

Questions and advice for vehicle sellers on Craigslist

Let me be honest.  I don't care that your car is the cleanest around.  I can clean the freaking car myself.  Tell me more important things; for instance, the AC works, the pickup is really good, your personal measurements of gas mileage, whether there are minor dings anywhere, and on and on.

Please don't yell at me.  I've seen posts saying "Don't bother e-mailing or texting!  No low ballers!"  I think you will find that it is hard enough to sell your vehicle without screaming text at people looking at your ad.

When I see that you've just replaced the transmission and the water pump and the battery and the O2 sensor and the AC compressor, I don't think, "Hey!  This car is half new and sure to work well for a long time now!"  I think, "Oh God, this piece of machinery is falling apart.  I will now navigate away from this page."  Leave that out of your ad until someone asks you about it.

Don't spell the make or model of your car incorrectly.  I have seen way too many "Infinity"s and "Carolla"s for sale.

Dealers: don't try to sell me an '02 Civic with 182k miles on it for $8500--that's idiotic--I don't care how cool your in-house appraiser thought the rims were.

Please don't tell me that 2xx,000 miles "is nothing for a [insert make of car]."  Two hundred something thousand miles is not "nothing" for any make.  Instead of saying stuff like that, you could tell me you did all the expensive routine maintenance on it already (e.g. tune-ups and whatever).

Why did you put high performance tires on your hybrid Civic?  Did you also put aftermarket exhaust on it?

Please don't tell me the 2003 you're trying to sell "still has new car smell!"  You sprayed that weird new car smell spray in it and you're actually trying to pass it off as being eight years old.  If all the chemicals in the plastic and adhesive in the interior are still leaching off to that extent eight years post-sale, I should probably actually be worried.

Why would you list your price as $7500 and then say "will not consider offers under $7200"?  That means I can just waltz in and argue you right down to $7200 because I know you're willing to go that low.  I mean really guys.  Might as well just post "$7200 firm" and forget about the extra $300.

I love it when people say they have the Carfax available upon test drive.  That's brilliant, and that saves me and anyone else who's interested in the car money.  It makes me like you already.

Probably more things are coming.  Also I am falling completely in love with a different car each day.  Yesterday it was a gray '04 Mazda3 hatch.  Today it is a completely obscene silver '03 Celica GT with a TRD package and a spoiler to be ashamed of.  But I'm telling myself that I'm young now, and will only be for a little while longer, and now is the time to buy completely unreasonable cars.  Also it gets 27-29 city and 33-36 highway and is a stick.  <3

It's one of these.  Can you imagine me driving this?  Also, can you imagine this getting 36 MPG?

Slalom on the highway and awkward eye contact

We drove back from my husband's family last night (I think it was about a six hour drive).  A couple interesting things happened.

So I'm in the right hand lane when a ambulance with sirens on comes swooping down the on-ramp.  I get to the left to make room for them, and brake so they can go ahead and get in front of me into the left lane.  Any reasonable person would have done that.  The ambulance keeps tearing down the road, getting behind oblivious people who then get over a second too late or so (and of course this slightly annoys me--do people just not realize they have a rearview?), but then it reaches a pair of trucks going side by side as trucks tend to do.  One in the fast lane, one in the slow lane, with the one in the fast lane going 1 MPH faster than the one in the slow lane.  These people in a normal situation make me want to throttle someone.  But this time, the ambulance comes sirening behind the one in the fast lane, and neither truck really changes speed.  The one in the fast lane maybe started going a little faster, but as I understand it he was probably limited by the amount of power he had.  So the burden fell to the moron on the right, to brake hard enough that the fellow on the left could actually quickly pass him and get in front of him to let the ambulance pass and go save someone's life.  No.  This idiot did not brake once.  Maybe he was too stupid to understand that he could have played a role in getting the other truck over.  I hope he was that stupid because otherwise he was just inconsiderate, to the point of allowing his lack of courtesy and his own concern for his own speed to potentially let someone die.  I swear that ambulance had to wait a full minute to pass, which is absolutely absurd.  Anyway.

Volunteer firefighters kept flying by, big trucks or SUVs with flashers on.  A blue official-looking utility truck on the left grassy shoulder swung out across the highway diagonally to get to the paved right shoulder (I imagine accelerating with all he had) a bit too close in front of me, so I had to brake a bit hard and get from the right lane into the left lane, first so I minimized the chance of crashing into his side, and second, so he didn't have to stay on the shoulder.  Sure enough he got from the right shoulder into the right lane, but he ended up having to get back on the shoulder permanently a while later after the traffic started backing up from the stop.  Eventually everyone was stopped or trying to merge into the left lane and then stop (the accident was in the right lane), so volunteer firefighters kept having to ride by on the grassy shoulder on the left.  We finally got up to the accident, and from what we saw, there was a two-car collision near a steep shoulder (with a guardrail).  An SUV had apparently swerved into the guardrail toward the beginning of it, torn the guardrail up out of the ground and bent it toward the incline at almost a 90 degree angle.  The SUV had flipped over fully and was resting on its tires with a pretty crunched-up looking roof.  Later on, at the other end of the guardrail once the steep shoulder I guess had let off some, there was a sedan (maybe a newer Chevy? didn't get a good look) facing the wrong way on the paved shoulder with a hugely dented left front bumper.  I have no idea what happened between those cars.

Later on, much after the accident, I was cruising along peacefully in the left lane minding my own business, going 80 MPH.  Apparently I either hadn't been checking my rearview enough or the guy didn't even give me a chance to get to the right, but before I knew it I was being passed on the right by a light blue Suzuki (From checking on MSN Autos, I think it was an Aerio?  Hell if I know; no one cares about Suzukis) going a little over 85 MPH.  It looked like he was going to try to make a narrow pass between me and another car, so I let off the gas a little, but a split second after that I saw the Suzuki braking hard and I saw flashing blue lights behind it.  Jamie went, "HA!  He got pulled.  I made some really weird eye contact with that guy."  So apparently this guy was passing us, staring at us to see who we were, made creepy eye contact with Jamie, and then got pulled over.  That is the most awkwardly hilarious thing I've had happen in a while.

Regrettable.

I think that was about it.  Lessons from that trip: don't block ambulances even if you're stupid, and don't pass on the right going 85 MPH--even if you are in South Carolina.

Finding a new (used) car

So as we all know, Birdy is dead (at least for now), and even when she was running she wasn't exactly The Best.  This fall, since I'm going to be commuting about an hour and a half to where I'm gonna go to school, I need to have a car that is 1) reliable, and 2) thrifty with the gas.  Well that's not hard--I could easily get another Corolla and be done with it.  Jamie's car, as far as I know, has never had any maintenance required other than standard stuff--brakes, oil changes, whatever.  No weird noises, no awkward starts.  Gas mileage runs a steady 36 or so when he's driving, and a steady 34 or so when I'm driving (I refuse to use cruise, and I'm more of a maniac, but maybe I'll discuss that in another post).

My dad had an '89 Corolla up until 2004.  Toy-Toy had 275,000 miles or something on her by the time she died.  And even then it wasn't the engine--I think the AC went out or something, and it would have cost twice the Kelley Blue Book value of the car to replace it.  So then Dad got a '98 Corolla (Goldie), who went on to last him to 296,000 miles, up until 2010 (my dad drives a lot).  It's true that by the end the car looked like absolute crap, the gas mileage was not as good as it had been (38 at one point!), the inside lights didn't come on when the headlights were on, and the transmission didn't sound right.  Now my dad is not the most conscientious person about maintenance.  He clutters up the car, he reaches with his keys in his hand to do something and manages to scratch up the headliner, he breaks door handles off from the inside.  And these cars have lasted him.  My mom's car was also a Corolla.  A nice shiny silver 2002 LE, now given over to my father.  Sylvia (who had power doors and power locks and was much froofier than Goldie and also had the benefit of not being that awful champagne color) is now in the clutches of my father, and we'll see how long she lasts.  I'm pretty sure that if he's careful she could last to 300,000 miles.  These are high quality cars.

But let me tell you something.  I don't want any more Corollas.

I have gone through three Corollas in my family.  Then I married a man with a Corolla.  They're great cars, but I've had them all my life.  I know what the Toyota interior looks like.  None of the gadgets confuse me.  I know the engine will be there when I need it, but it's nothing that blows anyone's socks off.  It's not leathery and luxurious, it's not pretty on the outside, you can't even say it's sporty like you maybe could with a Civic.  Getting a new one for myself would give me no excitement because there would be no novelty.  And it's not like the Corolla is the only reliable car with good gas mileage ever made.  Is it?

Sure it's not.  You have the Civic.  And um...  Hmm.  The problem is that for us, "good gas mileage" means over 30 for city and highway both.  I could get an older Prius, that's in my budget--but those batteries sure are expensive to replace, I've heard they're fairly unreliable (it's a newish technology though, so that's somewhat to be expected), and there's no way I could autocross it.  Yes, I would also like to be able to autocross my new car.  So we go with the Civic?

Well no, we don't, because I'd like to have some cargo space.  When Jamie and I were in Columbia, we wanted to buy a coffee table, but we realized it wouldn't ever be able to fit in our car back to Atlanta.  We couldn't take it from the store either, since Dad owns a Corolla too.  So, I pretty much decided then and there that if a car can't fit a coffee table I don't much want it.  I could autocross a Golf, and I'm pretty sure a Golf or a GTI could fit a coffee table.  But it has to have good gas mileage, and that car's not the best for it (especially when it's carrying around all of my coffee tables).  Also, the model years I can afford are all within that disgusting generation where the Golf looks really uncertain.  In the early nineties it looked boxy (but sharp and aggressive), in newer years it looks modern and cute, but between those times it just looks clunky and depressing.  If I had one I would name it Ugly and try to keep my eyes closed when I was getting in.

Also entering into the mix is the fact that I want kind of a nicer car.  Jamie's going to be a lawyer, and I imagine once we ditch Zyvelles, he's gonna be getting a 3-series or something like that, and it would look pretty silly if he had a 3-series and I had an old Golf that looked even older than it was.  I like Saabs--if I pushed my luck I could get a 2004 9-3 sedan.  Problem is you rarely find that in a stick, because people content themselves with the shiftable automatic.  "Aw well you can shift it anyway!"  Sure...but it's just not as fun and it feels like cheating.  I like Volvos, and I think some of the newish S40s are in my range.  No BMWs though, because even the slightly older ones are absolutely hideous (good marketing move, by the way).  The only Audis I can afford also look pretty dated.  And the thing about getting a lovely luxurious (but older and still expensive) car is that those brands cost much more money to fix.  My old crappy '98 Altima was pretty cheap when it came to new AC compressor clutches, but from what my mechanic told me, I was lucky.  "Your Saabs and your Volvos are gonna cost much much more.  You have a car that is really cheap to maintain, so that's great!"  Well, it's only great until my cheap car dies and I want a Saab or a Volvo.

And I mean, I could also go for a used Mini (but while it might have a six-speed manual and leather, it would also be smaller than the Corolla).  I absolutely unreasonably love the older Mazda 6s, but they get bad gas mileage, and apparently 165 HP or whatever it is isn't quite enough to make that beast peppy.  New Sentras are cute, but do I really want to risk it on another Nissan being as the one I had was such utter crap?  But while we're on Nissan, the Versa is a really reasonable hatch.  Decent gas mileage (nowhere near what Jamie wants, though) with crap-tons of room, and ugly as it is, I guess I could show up at an autocross with it even though folks would giggle.  Better than a Park Avenue or something.  And the car I want most, the Honda Fit, is too new, so all the used ones are at least a couple grand out of my budget.  I think maybe if I could find a Mazda3 hatch in leather with a stickshift I would be happy, because they have nice air vents and cargo space, even if they don't get the best mileage.

Will keep you posted.  August is approaching, so there will be a couple really stressful weeks at the beginning of that month and then I'll just close my eyes and buy something orange.

Ferrari 360 Modena

Saw one of these one the way to my part time job.
...
...Dangit, the photo insert isn't working, and I'm lazy.  Here is a link to a picture: http://cdn-www.rsportscars.com/images/ferrari/2002-ferrari-360-modena-f1/ferrari360f1_front.jpg  Please click on it, because you'll need to see it to understand the rest of the post.

I was turning left out of my apartment complex, and before I turned I had to wait on this red car coming from the right.  I didn't pay attention to what it was, and because it was going exactly the speed limit (guess I don't blame them) I swiftly caught up.  I saw the distinctive rear, thought I saw the Ferrari insignia but got a little closer just to make sure, and yup, there it was.  I guessed it was a Modena from the back, and I was beginning to worry that I couldn't pass the car in order to see the rest of it and make sure.  (Although there were opportunities to, how much of a douchebag would I have looked like speeding past a Ferrari in Jamie's Corolla?  "HA HA FERRARI 360 MODENA see I am JUST AS GOOD AS YOU!"  ...Not.  Anyway.)  Finally we came to a street where I had to turn left, and just as I had given up all hope he got in the right turn lane; I hit the gas hard enough that I could come up alongside him just before he turned, and yup, it was pretty definitely a Modena although I did still check on MSN later.  I swear that just seeing that car made my morning 5 points better on a scale of 10, which brought my morning up to approximately a 12.

You see these cars on TV, on Top Gear and in spy movies, but you don't really see them in real life.  And although I've seen other expensive cars in person (Nissan GTR, a couple Bentleys, a Rolls, a couple Vipers, probably some ZR1s without knowing), there's something about the exclusiveness of Ferraris and how exotic and half-ridiculous they are that just made me happy to look at this one--even if according to MSN the newest it could be is seven years old.  It's such a strange feeling, because even though I know realistically that I will never own a car like that (and no matter how much I love the Exige it isn't even in the class of Ferraris), some small stupid part of me still thinks that maybe someday I could drive one.  And so seeing it is enough to wake up that small stupid part of me and get me dreaming.

In more boring news, sorry I haven't updated more.  I could lie and say I have a life, but really I just haven't had much exciting driving stuff to report lately, being as Jamie and I are sharing his car and I really only drive it to the store and to my small job on the weekend.  I guess I could comment on the sheer idiocy of Atlanta drivers, or how my husband is slowly descending into becoming an Atlanta driver, but after a certain period of time spent living here, it doesn't really seem remarkable when a BMW cuts in front of you right before the red light and then refuses to notice when it turns green, or when cars come blindly into the oncoming lane to go around people in front of them who are, yes, planning to turn left.  I suspect that once I get my brand new luxurious used car, I will drive more.  What exactly that car will be is a different story entirely, and I might actually make a post about that soon.

Belated and random

To the cashier guy at the gas station who hit on me at 1am when we were the only folks in the store--you were actually way smoother than most guys who hit on random women.
Guy: "Hey, how are you?"
Me:  "Good, you?"
Guy, with a big smile:  "MUCH better now."
Me: (slightly flattered...?)
Guy:  "You look familiar...where are you from?"

Also he made my card work by putting it in a plastic baggie and then gave me a lesson on how it helped it go through the contacts in the machine better or something.  I feigned interest and left with an ego boost.  That was fun.

Besides that I have some letters to people:

Dear two old (like twenty-year-old) cars being towed which were obviously souped-up for racing:  You guys have aged well.  Love those decals.

To the driver of the gorgeous black Corvette in the slow lane:
I know...when you own a sports car you can't really speed or you'll get ticketed like five million times faster than anyone else.  But as far as I'm concerned that's totally worth it to own a car like that.

To the early 90's Civic hideously and extensively tainted with aftermarket garbage and strange paint:
This is metro Atlanta, a-hole.  Going 70 in the left lane isn't okay, even if you lowered your Civic.  Next time I will crush you.

To the cops going like 110 or 120 down the highway:
Thanks for putting on those lights so I could get out of the way before you KILLED ME.  You know how highway curves are gentle?  I could see your Crown Vics just leeeannning, you were going so fast through that curve.  ...That's actually kind of awesome though.

To people who slow down when they pass Buicks:
Okay so if you confuse a Town Car for a Crown Vic that's one thing.  But if you're passing a Buick Park Avenue, I expect you to know that it's not going to be a cop car.  Idiots.

To people who pass semis on the right before the semi gets over after passing another semi:
Are you aware that the reason semis who have completed their pass linger so long in the left lane is because they are terrified of maniacs like you who go racing up on the right side (where they by the way can't see you)?  You are bringing down all of mankind with your stupid driving.

To vultures on the side of the road:
BACK THE CRAP UP you are so scary to me with your windshield-threatening reckless unwillingness to commit to a point A to point B flight path.  Stop the wheeling because I would like to keep my face.

Tomorrow I head down to Columbia (I-77?  I'm a fan).  Zyvelles is way freaking overdue on an oil change though.  Ugh.  Need to make it happen.

Thunder driving

So I'm phobic about driving in the rain.  I don't know if I've mentioned this before.  A little rain is okay, but I don't like when the road surface starts getting all puddly and the backs of cars start spraying walls of mist.  I don't like that.  The first makes me afraid of hydroplaning, the second blinds me.  So when it starts drizzling, I always really quickly pray that it won't get worse--except for when I know it will.

I left a little late for my husband's this week due to a conference I had to go to for a class.  You might have heard about the crazy storm that went through the Carolinas Saturday, or even experienced it for yourself.  I drove through it.  I left thinking that I would miss most of the rain except for one thin strip of the storm, and that was exactly what happened, but good grief was that "thin strip of the storm" the most terrifying thing I've experienced in a while.  Even when I set out from Durham there was a lot of wind, but you could keep straight with small steering correction going 75.  80 was a stretch.  As I came toward...um...Salisbury?  I began to leave the normal "hey it's rainy weather, so I'm gonna be light gray" sky and was sprinting at 75 MPH toward "you know, you maybe shouldn't be traveling in this direction" dark gray angry sky.  Occasionally there were forked bolts of lightning in the distance.  It was all very foreboding.  Meanwhile, I'm listening to happy pop music on the radio (partially in denial of the worsening situation and my rising anxiety), and unfortunately that music is periodically interrupted by "BEEP.  BEEP.  BEEP.  ANNNNNNNNNNNRRRRRRRRGGH  The National Weather Service ..." telling me about new tornado warnings in counties that sound adjacent enough that I should be worried (but that I don't know where exactly they are).  Because I am beginning to freak out a little bit, I keep calling my darling every twenty minutes.

Husband:  Hello?
Me:  Hi honey, do you know where Davidson County is?  There's like a tornado there or something.
Husband:  Well was that Davidson or Davison County?
Me:  I don't freaking know!

As you can see these conversations were always highly productive.

By this time, all the sky around me is the doom gray color and the wind is picking up, and it's beginning to drizzle.  I start thinking of what I'll do if I see a tornado looming ahead coming at me.  Well, I could exit and run to a McDonald's.  I could pull off and hide in the forest, or in a ditch, but I don't see any ditches, they always tell you to hide in ditches, why aren't there any ditches?!  I could stop, cut across to the other side of the highway, turn around, and run away from the tornado, but that's not feasible since there are dividers, and even if there were a highway patrol pathway I would lose time since they're always so curvy.  I decide that exiting would be the best option.

The rain gets heavier.  I'm getting toward Thomasville, where I hear the **** is hitting the fan.  In fact, ahead, I could see swirls of "OMG the **** is hitting the fan" sky, the color of which looks about like this:

My best approximation.  Note that skies are usually not gray-green, except for in movies where there is really bad weather or an alien invasion.

All of a sudden the rain gets really hard.  Folks slow to 45 MPH, then to 30 MPH.  I turn on my fastest wiper speed (the one where it looks like the wipers are also panicking..."We're trying Allison!  We're trying!  But this rain is too much!").  Fast forward thirty seconds and everyone is going 2 MPH.  All I can see are the tail lights of the guy in front of me (who I had the sense to get close to earlier).  The rain drops are really really big splattery ones that go PAT when they hit, and the rain is falling in these weird waves where occasionally there is a second where you can see.  So here we all are, bound together by our courage and stupidity in facing this weather, staring hard at each other's tail lights with vision for the most part completely gray with rain and occasionally getting half-second flashes of vision of relevant things like the sides of the road (obviously I was in the far right lane) and other vehicles.  We marched forward bravely at 2 MPH.  Then people started turning off.  One by one, people formed a line on the right side of the road, until the guy in front of me left.  The sad thing is, so many people had pulled over that I was actually able to continue for a while just going to the left of all of the cars on the side of the road, even though I couldn't see the road at all.  If they had randomly decided to park in the grass, I would have run off the road.  Finally it got to the point where most people had already pulled off and my guideline to the right was gone, and I pulled off behind a big truck to wait.

I cut off the wipers, and you just couldn't see through the rain.  It was falling so hard and so thick that all you could see were tail lights.  I called my husband to pass the time, but after about two or three minutes, the rain started thinning, and people started pulling back on.  I eventually decided to pull back on, too, which was stressful because I could barely see behind me and people were already going around 40 down the road.  We were able to go about 35 or 40 until the rain thinned even more to allow us to go 55.  I got behind a big U-Haul trailer with bright tail lights and stuck it out for another five minutes or so until the rain faded away and I could see light down the road.  It seemed like we drove from the depths of hell immediately into a mural on a daycare wall.  The weather seriously looked like this:

"Aw come on, you did NOT just brave the worst storm you've ever driven through, you are so silly..." mocked the sky.

Since I was low on gas, I stopped in at a gas station / mechanic to fill up and get some talk therapy ("Did you see that rain?"  "Yes ma'am, it was raining so hard here you couldn't see anything..." and so on).  As my husband and that mechanic had promised, I had no more rain all the way to Atlanta.

The good news is that although I believe that storm may have taken a year or two off my life, there is now no more pollen on the car.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking, "If a car comes stock with scissor or gullwing doors, I can't afford it."

Well you're wrong.

A Delorean DMC-12 (1981-1982), the kind that starred in Back to the Future, came stock with gullwings.  And you can get it today for between 10 and 30 grand.  Apparently the rest of the car sucks though, so buying it might be a bad idea.

For $30,000?  Ehhhhhhhhh...

There's also this awful looking thing called an Autozam AZ-1 (1992-1995), made in Japan, a particular one of which will run you 1,068,000 yen (or about $12,000).  Can't say anything about the rest of them though.

Definitely needed gullwings.

As for scissor doors, well, the closest you're going to get is the Toyota Sera (1990-1996), which actually has butterfly doors.  Supposedly you can get it for about $8000.

All right, this one is actually pretty cool looking.

I'm too lazy to find any others.  But there you go.  If you don't want to drop cash on a Reventon or a Gumpert Apollo (what a terrible name), you can choose from these and maybe a few more.

Roadkill skunk or unintential dispersion of radioactive materials: which is worse?

Sorry this post is so late.  This is about Thursday's drive over to Atlanta.

So the first exciting thing that happened was that I saw a skunk run over on the left side of the highway.  This means two things.  First, that I saw my first roadkill skunk (win for life experiences).  Second, that the skunk managed to make it all the way across three lanes of highway before it got killed in the fourth lane.  I accidentally (re)ran it over, and I wondered for a few minutes if I would have skunkness on my tires--fortunately that does not seem to be the case.

The second exciting thing that happened was a semi crash.  All of a sudden, right near the border from South Carolina going into Georgia, there was a huge backup of traffic.  Being as I reeeeeally needed to go to the bathroom, I went ahead and stopped at SC exit 1, got back on the road, and I think the crash was maybe a couple exits into Georgia.  When we come up on the crash, the first thing I see (before the semis) is two hazmat trucks with their lights on.  They're from different organizations (one was "Rural Oconee County Hazmat-Decon" and the other was something different), and I see people wandering down into the woods next to the road, apparently on some sort of search.  We drive up a little, and the next thing I see is a semi on the right shoulder of the road, buckled in the middle and leaning pretty strongly to the right.  Up ahead of that semi looks to be another one...? but I couldn't tell since we were all already accelerating past.  Since this is really out of the ordinary, I called my husband to share my experience.

Husband--"Was it a tanker truck?"
Me--"No, that's what confused me...  It was one of those normal, boxy, dingy white ones that aren't labeled that could be carrying anything."
Husband--"You know they carry drums in those sometimes."
Me--"No, I didn't."
Husband--"Where was it?  South Carolina?"
Me--"A little bit inside Georgia."
Husband--"You might not want to get out again for a while."
Me--"I stopped to pee like an exit up the road."
Husband--"Oh!  You got a dose.  I'm glad you aren't feeling sick yet."

You will be happy to know that I still don't feel sick, and that even in the absence of evidence of any sort, I've decided that I have been dosed with radiation and am completely immune.

Unmarked trailers could contain deadly radioactive substances.  Be aware of your surroundings.

A defense of rubber necking, a letter to a driver, and a list of lovable cars

So rubber necking.  Maybe not the worst thing.

I was thinking about this earlier when I was caught in traffic.  Seems to me like if I've waited thirty minutes or an hour because of a wreck, and if everyone else is looking, that I should get my turn too.  While it may seem rude to look at the misfortune of others for your own entertainment, I think that it's actually more rude not to look.  If someone who passes by becomes a safer driver due to having seen that nasty accident (or fender bender) and then ends up having fewer accidents of their own, it's probably worth it for everyone to just wait a little while.  After all, if that driver had an accident of their own at some point, that would be even more waiting than the rubbernecking would have been.

I got up at 6:30am, and this is really poorly reasoned.  Well, relative to all the reasons not to rubberneck, which, due to bias, I am not listing here.

Also, to the car on 751 who was not going three seconds after the light turned green:  I honked.  I'm not sorry.  I am sorry though that you were pawing through something that was important enough to you to inconvenience me and everyone else behind us.  And what was that hand gesture?  It looked like you were trying to flip me off, but somehow your hand contorted into something completely unrecognizable.  It was like you had debilitating arthritis.  But since you were still staring down at whatever had captured your attention, I can only conclude that you were so mesmerized that you forgot how to begin and complete the simple action of flipping the bird.  You're welcome, for me being so charitable.  If you had been in Atlanta, I think you would have made the person behind you so angry that they would have just accelerated full-tilt into your trunk.  As we all know, Atlanta is not a place of reason.

So now I'm going to write down a list (and provide pictures) of vehicles I like that I might realistically ever own.  If I hadn't married a lawyer (those damn lawyers), many of these vehicles would be excluded.  This is in no order, much less order of price, because I'm far too lazy for any of that.  Actually I put all the hatches at the beginning.  Since I'll probably take the photos off of MSN Autos, I'll include their price range just for fun.

Honda CR-Z.  $19,345 to $23,355.  Badass gas mileage, 6-speed manual.  This is by far the cutest car in the world.  Every time I see one (which is actually fairly rarely as they just came out), it's like being a mosquito under the influence of a bright light.  It's awful.  There is nothing beautiful about the car.  Everything is just horribly, disgustingly, soul-possessingly cute.  I hear its exhaust actually expels cotton candy fibers.

It's much more striking in person.  You'll have to trust me on this one.

Volvo C30, the older one.  $22,100 to $23,400.  Very very pretty car.  I don't know why I have such a weakness for hatches.  Also, this one you really never see.  I didn't even know it existed until last winter break when I was stuck in traffic on 95 and then, all of a sudden, it pulled up past me.  It was definitely a WTF moment.

Better in white, and better in person.  Maybe I shouldn't have added pictures.

Mazda Mazdaspeed3.  Not even sure if that's how you reference it.  $23,700.  It's a 5-door with 263hp, which I'm sure is more than I'll ever need.  Only one more hatch after this one, I promise.

Okay.  Whose idea was the hood scoop?

Ford Fiesta.  $13,320 to $17,120.  I don't like Fords and I would never buy this, but it's cute, and when I see it I am not horrified (which is more than I could say for a Taurus of any model year).  Maybe it's not one of my favorites.  But worth a mention.

I keep accidentally calling this a Fusion in my head.  But this one is nice, while the other looks atrocious.

 Now for the slightly better cars in the list.  Ones I could have within five or ten years, depending on what cars my hubby wants and how much we make as a couple.

Chevy Camaro.  $22,680 to $39,650.  Good old American-made (important to us) sports car (important to me).  It does the whole muscle-car shout-out thing, which to me is a little silly, but it does it better than the Challenger, the Mustang, and whatever other ones there are.  This thing takes up a whole parking space.  Also, I just die over the fact that they spelled out "Camaro" on the front side.  So pretty.  Did I mention it comes base with 312hp?  You have to ask for 426.

I think we could safely call this "beast."

Nissan (370?)Z.  Thought this was the 370Z, but MSN Autos is just calling it "Z."  Anyway, $30,610 to $41,100.  So much better-looking than the 350Z.  Gawd.  That thing was awful.  This thing actually looks like it could go fast.  And it has the qualifications.  It has 332 or 350hp, depending on how much you want to spend, the importance you assign to gas mileage, and how pragmatic you are when you're buying a freaking sports car.

Blue is always a good choice with this one.

Chevy Corvette.  $48,950 to $119,800.  Ideally we would be able to go for the Z06 ($74,305; 505hp).  I think the ZR1 is just a mistake ($109,000, 638hp).  If you're in the over a hundred range, you could probably make more interesting choices.  Also, they all only come with 6-speed manuals, which will encourage foot draggers to effing learn to drive stick so they can have a Corvette at all.

Yes, please.

Finally, my favorite favorite favorite car in the whole world.  This is the one I would get even above nicer things like a Ferrari (well maybe not over a 458, but that's unrealistic).  A Lotus Exige.  $65,690 to $74,995.  240hp or 257hp.  But wait.  That doesn't sound like a lot.  Well yes it does, if you count the fact that it weighs 626 pounds less than a Civic.  That's like chopping off a little less than a third of your Civic and then adding 100hp.  Oh and it looks like this:

That'll blend in at the office.

Keep in mind all this is me spewing BS, since I haven't driven (and probably never will drive) most of these cars.  I am going on nothing but looks and stats here.  But this is my blog and I think that's okay.

Redefining the Nissan Cube, OR: Visions of a Lunatic in the Night

I made friends with a Ford Five Hundred today.  We drove very similarly, and I afforded this man great respect.  But then I realized he had purchased a Ford Five Hundred, and I was very conflicted.

Also, I got up behind an Accord, who was behind this Versa (who was of course going slowly in the far left lane).  The Accord impatiently got into the next lane over and...started going the same speed as the Versa, which is a huge pet peeve of mine.  I got behind the Versa and began tailgating them, so they began to drift over to the right--when the Accord, who had been going 70, all of a sudden decided to accelerate to 80, intimidate the Versa back into the left lane, and then stay right beside the Versa after dropping back down to 70.  I got behind the Accord, tailgated to get him out of the way, and then went on my way.  I got so mad.  It was bad.

A little later on, I realized that the least aesthetically appealing car on the road today is the Nissan Cube.  One of them switched into the left lane in front of me (mind you, it was dark, and several feet away), and the immediate impression I got from the rear was that it was a large glass box on top of a 1996 Nissan Maxima.  So we can see a clear retro trend in tail lights.  Obviously.

 

What my eyes showed me, in the night.

An actual Nissan Cube.  I decree that my mistake is understandable.

Learning to drive

Yesterday, I was about to drive myself and my darling from the CVS.  Having parked against a curb, I for some reason put the car in drive.  I noticed, and reached to put the shifter in reverse, but before I could (note that I didn't move the car at all), my husband goes, "IT'S IN DRIVE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  This is in a joking tone, as he is wont to be silly and overblow things for fun, and so I was like, "Hey, I noticed it was in drive!  I moved it!  I saw!" and, flailing, he goes, "You could have killed us!"  Such is the drama of my daily life.  So I giggle, put the car in reverse, back up, go to pull out, and brake for a car that is coming through the parking lot.  As I brake, my husband goes, "AAAAH a car is coming!" and I say, "I KNOW A ****ING CAR IS COMING.  I'M STOPPED.  EVERYTHING IS FINE," upon which he collapses into laughter and I seethe, remembering all the times my father has said similar things.

When I was just learning to drive, my father would hold on to the dashboard with both his hands because I was braking too hard (when I wasn't).  At other times his foot would futilely stomp the floor of the passenger side, when I apparently should have been braking.  Sometimes he would say, "Slower slower slower!" as though he didn't routinely go 82 in a 70 on I-26.  Actually it wasn't even that.  He would say, "Slowing down now!" not as a command, but as a spoken wish, as though it were a spell that somehow I would slow down to the speed limit quickly and safely if he just said it loud enough.

This is making me sound like I was a terrible driver at first.  Truthfully, the only problem I had was changing lanes--I wasn't brave enough to speed up to everyone else's exact speed, slide in, and then do some braking to make sure I didn't rear-end the next guy.  I remember one time where Mom was sitting with me and everyone kept going around me and I was like, "I'm too scared to go over there," and Mom goes, "I can tell.  That's okay."  It was funny but nice.  On the other hand if Dad had been there he would have gone, "AAAAAAAAH!"  So far, I have never had an accident and never gotten a speeding ticket, even in my early days.  I have been driving routinely on the street since I was 16 and on the highway since I was 17 (and I have clocked who knows how many miles on the highway just this year, let alone during college).  But my father still clutches at the dashboard when I make a turn.  And my husband maintains that I'm not careful enough in parking lots.

On the other hand, my father has been know to steer with his elbows while he flosses his teeth, and my husband will get so caught up looking at an interesting building that he will not notice a line of stopped cars in front of us.  He claims that he pays more attention when I'm not there to intervene ("Honey?  Cars...." *SLAM BRAKES*) and I hope that's true.

Day vs. night driving

People have a lot of stereotypes about how people in different states drive.  For example, I think that people in Georgia drive insanely fast, while people in North Carolina tend to be more careful.  But what I think I've realized is that, except in extraordinary circumstances (e.g. near Atlanta), most people are approximately equally stupid if you compare them at the same time of day.  It's not location that determines stupidity, it's the amount of traffic, which is usually determined by the time of day.

When I leave for Atlanta from Durham on Thursday around rush hour, I encounter the greatest volume of jaw-dropping headaching stupidity I ever encounter when driving.  Because people in Durham typically speed much less than their counterparts in Atlanta, everybody thinks it's all right to get in the far left lane only going five over, even when there are four lanes.  Because of that, the few people who want to go more quickly have decided that it's a great idea to just weave in and out of the lanes, even sometimes into the far right lane, to get past all the traffic at any cost.  But what they never seem to realize is that it's not just the stupid people in this pack of drivers that are blocking the far left lane--it's the stupid people in the next group, and the next, and the next, and the groups run fairly close to each other until the end of rush hour.  Typically what I do in this situation is take some deep breaths, resign myself to 75, and slowly pass the trapped lane weavers while laughing.  Oh ho ho, those lane weavers, when will they ever learn?!

At night, however, everything is bright and happy.  Sure, at 7pm or 8pm, there are still some idiots on the road, but by 10pm, the sample of people on the road is much lower so you get fewer morons.  And the morons that do exist are easy to get around, since there is basically no one on the road.  What I love most is when there's a driver going the limit in the far left lane out of 4 lanes at 12 midnight.  Is it that much of a burden to change lanes?  Does your vehicle have a steering wheel?  Have you ever driven a car before?  Just seems silly to me is all.  But sometimes they do that in the daytime with traffic, which is absolutely monstrous.
____
To the lady in the van in the far left lane who kept getting passed:  You look really stressed out.  You're going to get a backache if you maintain that posture for the next however long until you stop driving.  Your life would probably be a lot less stressful if you would get over a couple lanes to the right lane, and then people wouldn't be passing you on the right at an overwhelming pace.
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To the silver Altima with the SC plates:  I think you are the driving buddy I have gotten most attached to.  I calculated from the mile markers that we probably hung out for a good 120 miles.  You drive pretty much exactly like me, even going a little slower in lit areas.  I liked you a lot.  Sorry we kept passing each other--if we weren't so absent-minded / if we either of us used our speedometer that might not have happened so much.
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New traffic pattern, my willingness to lead a double life, and an Acura NSX

So I discovered a new traffic pattern today.  It's called the "everyone in the left lane goes 80 for a while and then slams on brakes until they're going 60, repeat" pattern.  Typically the left lane, as congested as it might be (and today it was very congested), likes to go about the same speed with some small deviations for people who occasionally tailgate closer than they meant to and brake.  What ended up happening was that I had one of the scariest moments of my life, since I was following someone a touch closely, they were following the next person a touch closely, and so on, and then everyone slammed on brakes.  So I slam on brakes, which wouldn't have been that scary, except for the fact that my suitcase (which was on the backseat behind me) flew into the back of my seat, making me feel like there had been a hit.  It was super terrifying.

Also, I'd like to mention that one of my husband's law professors claims that minivans are the safest cars on the road (because often enough they house mommies with their children, and one presumes that these mommies are careful).  I'm not sure if that professor had backed that up with statistics, so I'm going to look it up.  Suffice to say that some of the scariest drivers I've seen on the highway are minivans.  A Honda Odyssey passed me in the right lane doing 90 earlier today in heavy traffic.  Unfortunately I didn't get a glance at the driver.  I think it would be funny if these drivers going too fast in minivans were men feeling like they needed to (over)compensate for being a man in a minivan and just rushing around like they were still cool and still a manly force to be reckoned with.  I have seen a couple guys doing this, but I've also seen some women acting the same way in vans.  I don't know.  It would be interesting to study if you ever got that bored.

A cop got on the highway just in front of me today, so I braked to make sure I didn't go any faster than he did.  I typically follow cops and match their speed if it's reasonable, and this guy varied from +5 MPH to +10 MPH in the fast lane.  After a little while he decided to start messing with people's heads and he got over to the far right lane and started doing 65, but we were all like "EFF THAT THE LIMIT'S 70!" and passed him.  It was so cool.  To that cop:  you are the best.  I think I might love you.

Interesting sighting:  In New Orleans (where I went for spring break), I saw a Rolls Royce as I was walking on the street.  It was in stop and go traffic, and knowing it would have to stop soon, I broke from the rest of my group and started sprinting forward so I could catch the front view of it.  I know that's kind of strange, but it was the first Rolls I'd ever seen, and I just saw the doors and the back and I was like, "OMG ROLLS" and just ran.  It was an elegant enough car.  I'd never buy one even if I could, but it is nice to look at simply because of the exclusivity.  I can't remember the model, but if I had to guess I would say it was a Ghost since the headlights looked right and it looked pretty new.  And I mean please, who can afford a Phantom?  (For everyone's information, MSN Autos says the Ghost's MSRP is about $245,000 while the Phantom's ranges from $380,000 to $450,000.)

Second, better, interesting sighting:  On the way back from New Orleans, we spotted an NSX on the highway.  My husband was driving, so I had the luxury of staring out the window and making awkward eye contact with the (forties female) driver while saying "That is a ****ing Acura NSX!" to my husband repeatedly.  It wasn't one of the newer ones (had the pop-up headlights) but it was still gorgeous.  I couldn't figure out what it was until we pulled alongside it and then I just started cussing.  It was a beautiful car.  This is one that looks similar.

 I decided on the way back home that I would be totally willing to lead a double life as a hospice social worker and a Top Gear presenter.  So Top Gear, if you're listening...

"Right Lane Racing" OR "I'm Not Taking this Element above Eighty!"

Rocky and Bullwinkle?  Anybody?

So today I was driving around in Zyvelles, my husband's car (Zyvy henceforth), and I eventually got used to different levels of pedal pressure meaning different gears instead of different and relatively linear power inputs.  Pedal a third down: same gear, kinda faster?; pedal two-thirds down: down to fourth, sudden pickup; pedal all the way down: down to third, hold on to your pants.  In Birdy it's like, you push the pedal and the car goes accordingly.  An automatic is just a mind game.  But I admit it was fun to tear past people in third randomly "AAAAH why am I going so faaaaaaast?! (pass car)"

Also I almost died, but we'll get to that later.


The main annoying driver tonight was this maroon van from Massachusetts.  Basically it went 82 (faster than me) until it passed a semi, at which point it braked to 70 MPH unfailingly and then typically went back up to 82, except for when it didn't.  Why 70?  Not really sure.  Why did they want to prolong a pass which they evidently found terrifying?  Not really sure.  WHY, did they choose to hug the right part of the lane while passing semis?  Completely clueless.  Anyway, I followed this guy for a while until this Benz tried to pass me on the right (at which point, I kept him out because I was so angry--poor decision-making on my part since I then looked like a jerk and endangered people).  I thought for a second and realized I'd rather have a more aggressive driver behind the van than I was (since he wouldn't get right for anybody), and I let the Benz and this gorgeous white Audi pass.  They had no luck getting him over until finally, it must've been ten semis later, he got over, and I sped up ridiculously to get past him.  Another dumb move.  You'd think I'd be done with stupidity by now.  But anyway.


The reason for this title was that initially, before I was right behind the van, there was this little Honda Element behind him, tailing him.  At some point the Element lost faith that the van even had a driver, and when the van started on one of its 70 MPH gigs (far away from a semi...what on earth?), the Element tried to pass on the right.  But the van was one of these folks who speeds up if you try to pass on the right, and then you get behind him again, and he doesn't get over and slows back down.  Finally the Element decided to have a race with the van, but I swear it seemed like he didn't want to go above 80.  I mean, if you're going to have a race with a Silhouette and it's already above the limit, be committed.  Finally he went all out and passed the van and left me stuck behind him.  That's the cool story.


Now for the terrifying story and another dumb move on my part.  I was in the far left lane, and to my left was one of those nice welcoming solid concrete wall barriers, and that barrier was maybe a foot or two to the left of the white line, so there was really no emergency "lane" to speak of.  More like an emergency sidewalk.  I was passing a semi, I had been in the left lane for quite a while, I thought he knew I was there, and then all of a sudden he starts coming slowly in my lane.  But it's ambiguous.  It started like, "Hey you know, this is a curve to the right and so I'm gonna accidentally track into your lane a little bit, my bad," and started to become, "You are now in my blind spot and I'm gonna act like I'm changing lanes to freak you out."  I reacted really poorly (understandably though I think).  Given that initially things seemed like an "oops mistake sorry!" I kept accelerating past him and sliding left a little to accommodate him, and then when he kept coming into my lane, I started braking (why I would do that I have no idea since I was already just a bit behind the cab), and then I gathered my wits, he got a bit back in his lane, and I shot out of there (this was one of the "why am I in third?" moments).  Also it's key to note that he didn't have his signal on at any point.  I'm not sure how I would have reacted if he had.  I departed pretty significantly from my lane, which means I maybe should have looked at the wall some, but in my experience I tend to go toward what I'm looking at...and the semi just seemed a lot more relevant at the moment anyway.


So lessons:  If a semi comes into your lane, look at where you are and determine whether it's better to slam on brakes or slam on gas.  Don't just brake out of habit because then you feel dumb later.  Also, if you're leaving your lane a little bit and you're near a dangerous wall, maybe glance at that to double-check distances.  And if you want to honk but are hesitant to because that violates highway decorum, honk, because if you gave your life for courtesy's sake that would really be a shame.  ("I died for honor!"  "I died for my country!"  "I died for courtesy!"  "...What?")

I honestly don't know what would have happened if he was really changing lanes and really didn't see me.  I think I would have run into the barrier (hopefully at a shallow angle, maybe at 60), the semi would have contacted me, and then the semi would have swerved right (good luck folks in that lane) and everyone behind us would slam on brakes and yada yada.  Although it's true that in Forza Motorsport (come on, it's supposed to be a decent simulator), if you slam into a wall at even the shallowest of angles it can send you spinning.  Which would be bad.  So let's stop the thought experiment.

Welcome letter to Zyvelles

Dear Zyvelles,

I don't know why you are named Zyvelles.  I don't think it's a good name.  But you are my husband's car, and my husband is strange (I mean really, that's why I love him), and he named you Zyvelles.

You are very burgundy.  Kind of bulgey almost.  But you have really good pick up.  I would know; my husband wouldn't accelerate as quickly as he does driving you if you didn't.  It's been interesting knowing you over the years.  It's been about three and a half years now, since we were first acquainted, and over time you have become very special to me.  I've driven you more than a few times and helped wash you and sat in you for hours on long car trips.  And now you're gonna be my temporary car until summer comes, when my husband and I will be together and I will have no volunteering obligations (so I don't have to always schlep around).  I think we'll get along well.  Especially at the gas pump.  And I think I will see better at night since you have nice headlights.  And you also have five star crash ratings across the board if I'm not mistaken, so...that's comforting.  Anyway, on the whole, you're a really really really awesome car, so much better than Birdy (OMG already over her).  We will have fun.

Welcome to the route,
Allison

A farewell letter to Birdy

Dear Birdy,

I remember first meeting you, shiny and white, pretty for a car of your years, in a Kroger parking lot. The fellow selling you had to test drive you for me since I didn't know how to drive a stick yet. I spoke with my husband briefly, with the seller standing outside the car out of earshot, and we agreed that we needed to jump on it. This was the car, with 153,000 miles, a good price, and a good badge. We didn't know anything about how to inspect used cars. We didn't know that it was obvious your clutch was going out from all the engine noise. ...But oh, what a noise that noise was. It was beautiful. You sounded like some raptor out of hell, even at 2500 RPM, and so I named you Birdy.

Learning to drive you was relatively stressful. I'd read some about stick shifting, but it wasn't the easiest thing, and you didn't have the most forgiving clutch. But once I became competent, you and I were a force to be reckoned with. I absolutely loved you, because you were so loud and so fun, and because you hadn't disappointed me yet.

Then summer came, and we discovered you didn't have air conditioning. I soldiered through, more annoyed with each degree increase in temperature. I bought little ice packs to wrap around my neck in the hopes that I wouldn't have heat stroke when I drove you for hours in 98 degree heat on the highway with the windows down and the radio up (barely audible above the wind rushing past and the raptor scream of your troubled mechanics).

Then I was driving home from Durham (about a four-hour trip), and it was raining, and I was going to my friend's graduation the next morning. All of a sudden I hear this loud SQUEEK and the car lurches. WTF was that?! SQUEEK-lurch. What? Five minutes would pass between these lurches, then three minutes, then one. Scared out of my mind, I pulled off the highway to a mechanic in Mebane (30 minutes away from Durham). Since I was in a hurry and had to get home, substantial repairs could not be made, and he patched you up with some more transmission oil (almost all of which had leaked out before I'd gotten there), and sent me home with strict instructions to drive at no more than 60 MPH. About 45 minutes away from home you started SQUEEK-lurching with renewed zest (despite my slow driving), and I pulled off at a gas station and cried and called my dad.

I'll confess I absolutely hated you then. I hated having to leave you sketchily overnight at a gas station in the rain. I hated having to replace your transmission with a dubious used one. I hated shelling out an extra $1600 when I could have used that money to buy a better car than you. I hated the way you sounded neutered and lifeless when they replaced the clutch. I still hated that you didn't have AC. You had betrayed me in multiple ways. I kept wondering how I had gotten so unlucky.

But then miles went by with no problem. About 30,000 miles, in fact. I changed your oil religiously and attempted getting your AC fixed (to no avail). I replaced your radio with a used Sentra one that actually worked. Gradually I began to trust you again. We had a positive relationship. You had precise steering, a peppy engine, good solid brakes, and a loud sound system. You were roomier than the cars I had been used to growing up, and although you had your quirks, you were on the whole a lovely car. Recently I've been getting more and more tired of you, yes, because of your age and your little troubles, and the fact that your gearshift wouldn't go into reverse unless I put it in third first, and this and that. But I was going to keep you at least until over the summer, and then give you to a family member. It was gonna be great. Driving you was still my favorite thing to do.

But now, at 180,000 miles, you're dead. It started with a misfire; I gave you new spark plugs and wires. The check engine light went on again; I fed you premium gas. Still that light stayed on. And this morning, when I got in you, you made a weird noise when you started and you couldn't accelerate over 40 MPH. You could barely move at all. Apparently the timing chain guide broke. That's at least a $500 fix, Birdy. I'm not sure I could sell you for $500. I thought you would last me. I thought that, being a Nissan, you would get me to 250,000 miles easy. But you were a terrible car, perhaps horribly abused in the past, and now you're sitting lifeless on JR's lot. We have decided to give you to my husband's family so its mechanically-inclined members can attempt a fix. I don't even know if I'll miss you. I know I'll miss the stick shift. But the rest of you? I can't be sure. I'm bitter that my husband and I are now a one-car household and that any car we can afford right now would undoubtedly be worse than you were. I'm bitter that a little piece of metal broke and now I don't have a car. I'm upset about all the wasted money and stress. I don't know how I will remember you, if it will be positively or negatively. But you will always hold a special place in my heart for being my first car, that I bought with my own money, that I cried over and drove hard and really enjoyed and eventually gave up on.

Farewell, Birdy.

Your old owner,

Allison

Potential death of Birdy

So Birdy won't go.  Birdy starts, but the clutch is acting weird, acceleration is really slow (and doesn't happen past 40 MPH), the engine heated up way faster than usual (unless the gauge is wrong), and there is a crackling sound under the hood at idle.

I've looked this up and it sounds like it could be anything from a catalytic converter (unfortunately I didn't smell the exhaust so I'm not sure) to a fuel filter.  To my transmission failing.  I feel like it might be the latter, since she acts generally okay in first and second and then like crap in third.

I really don't have the money to spend on fixing her or getting another crappy car.

____

Dear Birdy,

Please get well soon.  You were working perfectly (well..."perfectly") Monday.  I know I left the back windows down a couple inches, but I'm pretty sure that didn't cause a catastrophic mechanical failure.  I know I'll have to get you towed to have JR take a look at you, but if it's a catalytic converter honey, then I just can't pay for it.  You better not have anything really wrong with you, or I will be forced to sell you to a junkyard which will cut you up and part you out.  I was hoping to keep you in the family after we were done together.  I was hoping you would keep going past 190,000 miles (come on, you're a Nissan!).  But now that's all up in the air.

Love and best wishes,
Allison