Showing posts with label cars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cars. Show all posts

Jan. 20: In lieu of a planned post

On my way home from work this afternoon I thought of about 15 things I needed to blog about. Can I remember even ONE of them now? No. And I guarantee you, every single one of the things I thought of was either hilarious or profound. Some were both. It’s true. And now I’m all empty-like in my head. But guess what? I’m not gonna let that stop me, no sirreee! Here, in no particular order, are some of the things I’ve thought about this past week.

thinkerThose super-bright bluish headlights? I hate them. They even make me mad sometimes. I do not know why. I beg of you, please don’t have them or get them or I’ll be mad some more.

Jack got a Nerf dart gun for his birthday and it’s pretty cool. I didn’t realize how cool, though, until I was over at Val’s this weekend. They have four Nerf dart guns, and the whole family gets into it. The darts fa-LY. Y’know that old saying: the family that shoots Nerf dart guns together, roots serf tart buns together. The Fukais are that family. We shall be that family too.

I am not drunk. I’m not.

If I could only watch one TV show for the rest of my life, I’d wish for more wishes because I could never decide on just one.

One thing I hate about working a full day is how tired I am at the end. But the thing I love about that full day not ending until 6pm is how much lighter the traffic is all the way home. Also, the paycheck.

I need glasses, dammit. My vision is all wonky and unpredictable; it goes from being fine to horrible—like OMG-I-think-Stevie-Wonder-just-sideswiped-me-on-the-freeway horrible—to so-so and back to fine. I really shouldn’t be driving. Worse yet, I’ve become that person who asks random people, “Can I try on your glasses?” I hate that person. I’ve already had LASIK twice—shouldn’t my vision be better than this? I sooo do not want to smell my scorching corneas again.

We’re doing Poker Night at Jim & Tina’s this weekend, possibly tournament-style! I don’t really care how we play, because my favorite part of Poker Night has very little to do with the cards. If I could win just one hand, though, that’d be rockin’ awesome. Just one.

Stanford’s went and changed their Henry’s Beer Cheese Soup day to Wednesdays, but Wendy and I didn’t know that when we went on Tuesday specifically to have the Henry’s Beer Cheese Soup. How dare they change their menu four months ago! We’ll go in NEXT Wednesday, then. Pfft.

G’night.

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Jan. 5: I gotcher global warming right here

Don’t get me wrong; I love my Jetta. I’m on my fourth Volkswagen, in fact, because they are so much fun to drive. But this time of year I have a teensy little complaint:

Ohmigod, it is so friggin’ hot in here.

The climate control thingie in the ‘08 VWs is pretty vague, consisting of a dial with a blue dot on one end—representing cold—and a red dot on the other—representing… HOT. Right. Very good.

Here I have made a simple diagram of how warm the car gets within seconds of changing the climate control thingie.



I’d like to ask Volkswagen to exercise some restraint in their contribution to our energy crisis and maybe instead put some effort into engineering decent cupholders in their cars (my guess is that Germans drive while holding their beer steins and do not need the 24 cupholders found in every American vehicle). I don’t think they’ll listen. Instead, I’ll ask this of my passengers:

Keep your friggin’ hands off my friggin’ climate control thingie.

Sep. 21: Blame Canada?

We’re home and exhausted. For now, here’s a quick synopsis of April’s and my 40th birthday celebration weekend in Vancouver, B.C. We had a super-duper time in spite of a few things.


What I saw when I checked out the view from our hotel room. Welcome to Vancouver!



Canada Place is in Vancouver



This is the part of Canada Place that Jim let me see



Chinatown is kinda scary but has cool turtles



We love cupcakes. Thanks for the recommendation, Chris.



April stole a fork. Jim and I have the same uncle. (Earl. Duh.)



Such funny money!



Olympics 2010 mascots



$12 heat lamp chicken



Mojito. Perfect in every way.



Weather was not perfect in every way.



The guy next to us during the very long wait at the border had very little shame.


A guest blogger is a good suggestion for my next absence, Lori. Maybe it can be you and Kathy expounding on the P.O.S. that is my car (compared to the both of yours).

Apr. 10: Car Talk (non-NPR version)

Two things:

  1. I listened to and appreciated your suggestions and advice about cars. If you don’t want to believe it (Lori), that’s your own paranoia.
  2. Next year we will probably be getting rid of the MPV so I’m filing away the aforementioned suggestions and advice and will refer to them often, I’m sure, as we get closer to making a decision about that.

And the winner is...

I bought a Jetta yesterday. Don’t be bitter at me for not going with the Prius (Lori).

Sheila, the Highlander is my top choice for a larger vehicle. We looked at them before we got the MPV a few years ago but the third row was a new feature then and really uncomfortable and awkward. Only the kids and my teeny mother-in-law would have fit back there. It’s supposedly gone through some refinements and is now better, though I doubt it is or ever will be roomy enough for adults on long trips. Everyone I know that owns a Highlander loves it.

Victor doesn’t know that much about hybrids, it seems—after all, he did say “PRY-us” until yesterday when I showed him the blog comments and texts I received!—but I’ll make sure we do some good research over the next year. I think the hybrid Highlander might just be for us.

And if we decide to replace the MPV with something smaller, then the Prius looks promising. It will probably be Vic’s car and he doesn’t have the VW devotion that I do.

Not that you care (Lori), but I love my new Jetta. They didn’t have the white I wanted, so I went with silver even though it’s kinda blah. And I didn’t spring for the fancy wheels because I was trying to keep the $$ low. I’ve convinced myself that even though the exterior isn’t exactly what I wanted, it doesn’t affect the zippiness I so dearly love. It’s still a VW and therefore pretty darn near perfect in every other way.

Well, perfect but-cept the cup holders. What the hell? Do Germans just hold their beer while they drive? VW cup holders are the worst, and have only marginally improved in the 10+ years since my first VW.

Thanks again. You guys are wicked cool.

Apr. 9: Cars, part deux

Guess what? We’re going to look at cars today. Well, we might. Depends if we get off work when we’re supposed to, which almost never happens.

I appreciate the automobile advice y’all offered. I looked into Priuses (Priuii? Priapism?) last night and got all excited about them. They’re cute, they’re efficient, and they seem fun. Then Victor said if I don’t like the way a Camry handles, I’m not going to like a Prius any better because they’re designed to be even more aerodynamic.

When I’ve driven my mom’s and mother-in-law’s Camrys (Camries? Camrii?), I can turn the steering wheel back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and I’m still going straight down the middle of the road, all the while terrorizing my passengers. Wheeeee! Oh yes, the Camry is a lovely car to drive; it’s effortless and easy to terrorize one’s passengers and who wouldn’t want that?

But here’s the thing: driving the VW, if I turn the wheel just a teence, the car goes in that direction. Steering is very responsive and that’s what I love about it. I think it’s called Fahrvergnügen, if I remember my mid-90s advertising correctly. Whatever it is, it’s perfect for the person that needs to feel in control of everything. That would be me. Yes, the VW has quite possibly contributed to my need for a rheumatologist, what with the steering wheel requiring a GRIP to turn, not just a knee. But if the VW didn’t do it, the 20-hour/day keyboard use would have. Meh.

Lastly, every VW we’ve had could turn on a friggin’ DIME. I’ve been driving the MPV the past few days and I don’t think I could do a U-turn on a 7-lane road with that thing. (Plus it’s a minivan, sorta. Me no likey no matter how practical.)

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As you might have guessed, I’m looking at the Jetta if we go look at cars today.

Now I need two other important questions answered:

  1. How the h-e-double-hockeysticks do you pronounce “Prius” anyway? I say “PREE-us” and Vic says “PRY-us.” He’s wrong, right? (Lori and Chris, you can argue this one out.)
  2. Why can’t Toyota, a company that makes great cars, give them names that pluralize more easily? Sheesh.
  3. Is “pluralize” a word? I’m too lazy to look it up.

Apr. 8: Vehicle vex

I’m having a car crisis. The lease on my Passat is up this month and it’s time to decide what to do. These are my options:

  • Keep the Passat (pay residual)
  • Lease another VW
  • Buy a good car

And here are the reasons this is a crisis…

Keep the Passat

I love this car; it’s probably my favorite so far. Besides the simple fact that it’s a VW, it’s roomy, the interior is perfect for kids and dogs (practical vinyl-y upholstery they said “is just like leather!” but only a blind person would think so, although it’s certainly better than the stuff that was in our Ford Granada 30 years ago), and the trunk is huge. The reason I may not want to keep it is that it’s dark blue and impossible to keep clean. Also, it’s four years old. But most of all, I fear owning a VW again because they are not the most reliable cars in the long term. This Passat is the least glitchy VW we’ve had but I fully expect the serious problems to kick in any day now. I’m leaning heavily toward turning it back in.

Lease another VW

So far I haven’t found a car that’s as fun to drive as a VW. I love the way Volkswagens handle, the way they seem to hug the road. They’ve got good safety ratings. I don’t love the new models, but they’re alright. I would probably downsize to a Jetta or maybe even a Rabbit. Although I have enjoyed the Passat, it’s probably more car than I need and is more $$ than I should spend again. The reason leasing another VW might not be a good idea is for the simple fact that it’s a lease. Personally, I totally agree with the advertising about leases (when you lease, you can get a new car at the end of the term; when you buy, you have an old car at the end of the term!), but I realize there are some benefits of owning. Like eventually the car is paid for and you no longer have monthly payments. Heh heh. That’s kind of a big one; probably the only one. But [in whiny voice] I like new cars. And I hate selling used cars. Hate hate hate. [end whiny voice]

Buy a good car

If we were to turn in the Passat and purchase a car, it would probably be a Camry or Accord or Civic; something that’s proven reliable in the long term and with good resale value. This is what Vic would do if I would just keep my big fat mouth shut. The thing is, I’m not a huge fan of those cars. I know they’re among the best in my price range and I definitely like the looks of them but they’re just. So. Boring. Not fun to drive (to me). Not zippy. On the other hand, the idea of eventually having no car payments sounds awfully appealing. And not having to pour money into repairs that are virtually inevitable with a VW… not bad either.

So it would appear I need some advice. Here are my criteria:

  • A sedan or small SUV meets my needs
  • I hate wagons
  • I don’t want to drive a minivan
  • Decent gas mileage
  • Good safety ratings
  • Totally fun to drive
  • Did I mention that I really would like another VW?

Feb. 29: What, no Darwin award?

You gotta read about this guy who drove through a barricade and ended up in the river. His little dog apparently got caught under his brake pedal but he had trouble getting him out because he had a cup of coffee in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He said he lived through the accident because God heard his prayer.

So, he was saved because he prayed? Isn't this just proof that there is no God? Should we really be worshipping a god that would save this jackass?

This reminds me of all the times I didn't study for tests and prayed I'd ace them anyway. I mean, if you can't even manage to get ONE hand on the steering wheel as you careen down the highway with your dog roaming loose in your car, you better damn well not ever STOP praying.

I'm betting the airbag must be pissed, what with God getting all the credit for its hard work. Also, according to his dog's photo the guy hasn't heeded Bob Barker's advice.

I implore you, why are these people allowed to live? They're lucky their deserved punishment (slow torture involving ice picks, razor blades, rubbing alcohol, and Celine Dion) is frowned upon in today's society.

July 10: Car talk

In Laurie Notaro's book, The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club, she tells about running over a gas can that then gets wedged under her car. She doesn't know it, though, and calls AAA because surely such a noise means that her car is about to die. Before the tow truck arrives a policeman stops and discovers the gas can. He gets it out from under the car and leaves laughing. Laurie is humiliated.

As I read this I thought, "Oh yeah, she's an idiot girl, all right." Because I probably would have done the same thing. I mean, I can't imagine how she ran over a big gas can without realizing it, but I could identify with just about everything else.

I cannot change a tire. I know what a flat one looks like but I don't know the first thing to do about it, especially if it's raining. If you asked me to point to my battery I might be able to do that because they show car batteries on TV commercials. Spark plug, whuh? I don't know what a carburetor does or looks like. Because I live in Oregon, I'm not allowed to know how to pump gas. And while traveling out of state I make someone else do it because I get gas all over my hands and am pretty sure I would not-so-spontaneously combust if I don't clean it off properly. I wouldn't know where to check my oil if you held a gun to my head. And if you asked me to point to my clutch I'd have to think about it for a little while before I remember I drive an automatic (they don't come equipped with clutches, right?).

My dad would be so ashamed. I made it a special point to not ever mention any of these things to him while he was alive. Right now his ashes--which are on top of my china cabinet--are creating a tornado, I'm sure; otherwise my china's rattling around for a totally different reason.

I know how to turn on my hazard lights. I have AAA. I pay my membership fee every year and the only thing I have ever asked in return is that they give me some travel guides and maps. So I think calling one of their dudes to come change a tire for me wouldn't be such a bad thing, especially if it's raining. Vic is incredibly ashamed that I think that. I try to not ever mention my lack of car knowledge to him because he'll drag me out by the hair and make me change tires until I can do it like a pit crew.

I pull the "helpless and naive idiot girl" card when it helps me most. Don't we all?

--Jen

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