"In cars." - Gary Numan, 1980
It's been a long, strange few weeks out here in Minnesota, and for me, it has focused completely on cars. In order to maintain my sanity (and my need to vent), I will now describe the beginnings of what will undoubtedly be the longest family squabble ever in the Gerber family.
I found out last year that the lease on my mom's car will expire later this year (late '99). This will leave her with no car to drive, and frankly not a lot of money to buy a new car. I figured that I could afford to help her out, so I started looking at used cars last summer. Last November, I found what I thought was a perfect replacement for the awful Mitsubishi Galant that she likes so much. I found a 1993 Geo Prizm (clone of a Toyota Corolla - same car, different nameplate). It looks just like the Galant: it's white, it's the same size, it has the same color interior, it has the same power windows and power door locks, which my mom described all as very important features to her. More importantly (to me anyway), it will start every day. I don't want my mom getting stranded anywhere, so what could be more reliable than a Corolla? The Corolla's TV ads tout its reliability, and I can attest to that, being a happy Corolla owner myself. My co-workers agreed; a casual survey of their experiences revealed a Corolla with 200,000 miles, a Camry with 108,000 miles, an Acura with 120,000 miles, a Mazda with 100,000 miles, and so on. Virtually everyone I found who's owned a Toyota wouldn't part with it for the world, even with 100,000 miles on it.
So I bought the Prizm and immediately had lots of preventative work done on it. I replaced all the fluids, belts, hoses, filters, wiper blades, brakes, and tires, and I gave it a tune-up, a wheel alignment, and quite a few other things that I can't remember off the top of my head. I gave my mechanic instructions to replace anything that might be questionable, and he went to town even though the car was in great shape to begin with. So when all was said and done, I had a remarkable little car that I thought my mom would love.
Margaret drove it around town from last November until May. (Her old '83 Accord doesn't like winters, but I put off replacing it until after my mom's car was delivered.) Not surprisingly, the new Prizm survived the Minnesota winter quite nicely, and became the car of choice when we wanted to drive somewhere. (It has a bigger engine and more pep than my own car.) We drove it up to Duluth (3 hours each way) at ridiculously high speeds to check out its gas mileage. (40 MPG. God bless.)
The plan was that I would drive it out east in May, visit with mom, and fly back home, leaving the car with her. Simple, or so one would think. Margaret and I drove the 1500 miles to NY last week, and the car performed beautifully, but mom rejected the car. At some point, one of her friends put the bug in her head that the car was unacceptable because it had lots of miles on it. Never mind the fact that my own wife drove it through a Minnesota winter (if it's good enough for my wife, shouldn't it be good enough for my mother?), or that we had just driven across eight states through some of the most isolated parts of the country without batting an eye. Nope, the car was unreliable. So I gave it to my brother, who was also out east and now owns two cars. (The other one is an '83 Chevy Celebrity with 155,000 miles, and despite his claims that it's the best car ever built ever, it won't live much longer.)
So I'm an "irresponsible" son, in her words. Unbelievable.
Now that I've gotten all that out of my system, I'll fill in some of the details about the trip. We drove through Chicago, and saw a few billboards with ads for genetic testing services to find out if a baby is yours. I am not making this up. They just need a little saliva, and presto! You're either off the hook, or you're a dad. I guess these services were inevitable, but it's creepy nonetheless.
We drove about 12 hours the first day, then met a dear old friend in Detroit, which is almost exactly halfway between Minneapolis and New York. I had heard that Detroit was not particularly friendly towards foreign cars, but I was still surprised to see that 90% or so of all the cars on the road were American. Out here, the cars are mostly Hondas and Toyotas, but it's strictly the Big Three in Detroit. (As opposed to the Big 803, which is my brother's cryptic nickname for his beloved car. Let's all sing the Big 803 song... but I digress.) We saw a Tigers game, and thanks to Terry's corporate seats, we sat 9 rows behind home plate. Woo-hoo! It's the last season for the Tigers before they get a new stadium, but I didn't see much wrong with the old one.
We left Detroit the next day, then drove through Cleveland to New York in one shot. It was only about 11 hours, and 3 hours shorter than MapQuest's estimate. It might have taken longer if we had stopped for any appreciable amount of time. We did stop at a rest stop in Ohio, and while I was waiting, I noticed the big pile of bad cassettes for sale by the cash register. ("Loggins and Oates" - the Simpsons) They were selling one tape by the country group Asleep At The Wheel, which has to be the worst choice of driving music that one can make.
The stay in New York was brief and rather unpleasant, and I apologize for not contacting anyone while I was there. I did get my teeth cleaned by my childhood dentist, which was a bright spot. Good dentists are very hard to find, and I recommend anyone in the New York/New Jersey/Connecticut area to stop by and see Dr. Wolff. (In hindsight, it couldn't have been a wonderful vacation if the high point was a teeth cleaning.)
I noticed that New York radio has reshuffled its cards again. Z100 and WPLJ, the two top 40 stations from my childhood, are both back to teen pop music again after taking a few years off. (They were adult contemporary and modern rock, respectively. I still cringe when I think of one of Z100's ill-fated slogans: "Do you like Pearl Jam? We like Pearl Jam.") The last time I was in NY, there was an all-'80s station with a painfully tight playlist (imagine Springsteen's "Dancing In The Dark" and Donna Summer's "She Works Hard For The Money" and nothing else.) It has since become Jammin 105, which seems to play nothing but the Spinners and Al Green. They won't last. I did get to hear one of my favorite DJs, Broadway Bill Lee. He's working at WKTU, which is a new incarnation of the disco-era KTU, and he's still got it.
So Margaret and I flew back here on Sunday, one day ahead of schedule. (My trip was so unpleasant that I changed my plane tickets.) I was never so happy to come back to work...
In other news, we saw "Go", which was immensely entertaining (even though it was really derivative of "Pulp Fiction") and "Election", which wasn't bad, but seems to have had all its elements thrown together by a committee. ("Let's have Matthew Broderick get stung by a bee for no good reason! That's funny!")
"Crap From The Past" is developing a pretty devoted following, thanks in no small part to my FABULOUS PROMOTIONAL PENS, which have been available in local record stores for about a month now. People seem to love pens, and I recommend the Bic Stics to anyone who's interested in tooting one's own horn.
My idea for the greatest Halloween costume ever: The One-Man Food Fight.
Margaret just started work at a new and better job. She's doing jewelry stuff for a company in downtown Minneapolis. She takes the bus in with all the other commuters, and she works on the 11th floor. That's pretty tall! I think she'll be doing bench work, but I don't know any of the specifics yet.
We also got a newer car to replace Margaret's '83 Accord. She now has a mint-green '96 Civic hatchback, and it's pretty cute. So finally, no more car stuff. I don't ever want to hear anything about cars ever again...
Well, thanks for letting me vent. I really do feel better now.
Ron & Margaret
