I think I was 17 the first time I drove from Portland, OR to Saratoga, NY, by
myself in and LBC. I have
since made several cross country trips in LBCs. My first one came with a box of
tools that weighed more
than I do, and it took very little time to find out why. I also learned how to
use them, which is
something I would insist that my daughter do, if I had one. It amazes me the
number of people that I
see in gas stations who cannot even open their hood, let alone manage to check
any fluid levels. I let
my ex talk me into my one and only Japanese car shortly before I got rid of
him. Actually, after he
listened to me "gently chastise" the non-service manager at the Datsun
dealership for screwing up the
thing, I think he was rather happy to let me go. Either that or it was the
sight of me, dressed in high
heels and short skirt, tearing my car apart in the company parking lot,
mumbling uncomplementary things
sort of under my breath as I worked. Do I need to tell you that the thing ran
right when I finished
with it? I guess I have a bad attitude, but when somebody charges me $300 for a
tune up, it had damn
well better run at least as well when it leaves as when I took it in. I also
tend to get just a wee bit
testy when some overpaid idiot tries to tell me that my fuel injected car needs
a new carburetor.
Norman the Neon is probably mostly Mitsubishi mechanically, but at least he has
a nice friendly
expression, and with the 5 speed isn't too offensive to drive. Besides, he has
the added advantage of
being Washington Husky purple, and Gary is a rabid Oregon Duck fan. (Heh, heh!)
Kate
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