Friday, February 23, 2007
Two years ago, I bought my dream car. The kids were grown and it was time for Mom to buy herself a toy for a change.
I'd wanted a mako shark style Corvette (C3) since I was a kid. When I first saw one, I'd been riding in the back cargo area of my dad's Country Squire station wagon. You know, the kind with faux-wood paneling on the side and the obnoxious paint color everywhere else? Ours was piss yellow. It was also back in the days when kids rode in the backs of the wagons with no seat-belt, no car seat, no airbags. All of our moms had automatic, emergency rail arms? The kind that, as soon as the foot hit the brake, the arm flew out to catch you before you flew through the windshield? Remember those?
So, there I was, riding in the back of the piss-yellow-with-faux-wood station wagon. My brother was there, too. We were probably in the midst of that old "he's on my side - she's looking at me" squabble when I saw a car unlike any other behind us. I quickly lost interest in annoying the little brother and focused on The Car. It was so cool! The image burned itself into my brain. Then, the driver turned on the headlights and when they flipped up out of the hood, that was it for me. That was my dream car. That was the car I would have some day.
It took twenty-seven years but I got one. A few months later, I rebuilt the engine in it. This car is Prozac on Wheels with more than 500 hp. It doesn't matter what kind of day I'm having when I'm changing gears, listening to her growl and heading on down the highway.
She doesn't like the cold much and I don't trust the idiots on the roads around here so I rarely drive her in the winter or on rainy days. That combined with a too hectic schedule the past few months ended with a dead battery (it was old) and I couldn't drive her.
MrWurdi is my hero. He called and asked me if I wanted to go to lunch. He'd been to the parts place, replaced my battery with a new one, and came to swap cars with me. MY HERO.
Vroom, vroom, and get outta my way. I've got my motor runnin' and I'm headin' down the highway.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
Chrysler's suck. Really. See the picture? Chrysler, down the swirly.
Regular maintenance/tune-up actions can not be performed by the owner. You must take your vehicle into the dealer. For example, the fuel filter is supposed to be changed every 30,000 miles. What does it take to replace the fuel filter in the convertible? YOU HAVE TO DROP THE FUCKING FUEL TANK. Seriously. You have to drain it, drop it and then replace the filter. God forbid you'd have to replace the fuel pump. Guess where the geniuses at Chrysler put that? Inside the tank.
I just got off the phone with the Disservice Department. I'd called to find out how much it would cost to get my spark plugs and wires changed. See, it's impossible to do this minor little maintenance task yourself. Half the spark plugs are located in an inaccessible place (for the home mechanic) in the engine compartment. Guess how much it costs... gone on, guess.
Guess high, now.
I'm guessing that one dollar there is Chrysler's way of saying, "HA! We have you bent over the fender and we're not using lube! Take that! And a little more!"
Sunday, February 18, 2007
I haven't had time or energy to write anything of substance recently but I'm determined to keep blogging along. So, my goal this week is to write something each day - even if it's just a random thought.
A little bit of cayenne pepper goes a very long way.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Oh My God.
I have discovered the funniest Top Chef Commentary ever.
Amuse-Biatch is brought to you by Charlus and Ms. XaXa who very nearly made me wet my pants. Please go read this site. You will laugh. You will cry. You will pee your pants.
Also, for you design freaks... this daring duo has recently launched Pink Navy to give Bravo's Top Design the same irreverent treatment they've given Top Chef.
I planned to do my review of the Top Chef finale today but that review has been pre-empted. I'm going back to read more of Amuse-Biatch.