A few years back I was pulled over for doing 21 in a 15mph school zone which resulted in a poorly written carbon copy of a ticket, which resulted in me shorting my fine payment by $0.50, which resulted in a bench warrant out for my arrest upon failure to pay, which resulted in my wife mailing fifty pennies to the magistrate with a scathing letter. Since then, I’ve tried to stay on the straight and narrow.
It only took six years to fall off the wagon.
Friday, I was driving home from work and immediately jumped onto 79 South because traffic was stacked from Robinson. Now, the “back way” as I call it is a 70 mile stretch of highway that follows 79 South to Washington where I jump onto 70 East towards New Stanton and then finish up with the Turnpike to Irwin. This takes about an hour, which is usually how long it takes me to go 35 miles from Robinson to Irwin by way of 376, 22, and any number of back roads to my house.
Driving on 79 isn’t bad, but 70 is like driving the DC Beltway during rush hour. Once I get to the turnpike, I find my happy place and just kind of cruise home. Unfortunately, I was apparently cruising a little too much and the State Trooper parked about a mile away from the Irwin exit pulled me over.
Now, I must preface this by saying I am currently driving a 2005 Malibu Maxx wagon with 80,000+ miles on it. I could see myself doing 75 mph in it, easily. That’s pretty standard. However, the officer stated I was doing 90.
“90!?!?!?” I asked.
“Yes.” He replied.
“90!?!?!?” I asked again.
"Would you like to look at it on the dash cam?” He offered.
“May I?”
I got out of the car and walked back to him while he collected my ID and registration. “See there, the number on the left represents all of the cars passing by.” It read 60, 62, 61, etc. Well, of course it did. Everyone sees the flashing lights and has slowed down under the speed limit. “The number on the right is you.” It showed 90.
He also said, because I was out there all alone, I was the only one being clocked at that instant. "Had you been driving alongside someone, I probably wouldn't have bothered." (paraphrased) This goes along with some old advice I got from a State Trooper in 1995 who informed me that he wouldn't have pulled me over for doing between 1-15mph over the speed limit. I was doing 71 in a 55 at the time. I was also driving an 84 Pontiac Firebird, a far cry from the family truckster I drive now.
Now, he says the machine is calibrated. Of course it is. My car is calibrated, too. When I get up over 80mph, it shakes. Therefore, if I am cruising along on the highway and doing 90mph, I would not be able to drive with one hand on the wheel, which is what I was doing. Still, I conceded that he had a calibrated radar and I maintained that my car does not drive smoothly at 90mph. I agreed to disagree.
I dropped my payment in the mail. I sent a check this time…not 11100 pennies.
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Showing posts with label Malibu Maxx. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Malibu Maxx. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Saturday, August 27, 2011
i hate u
Marriage is a partnership. It’s a compromise. It means doing things you don’t always like doing and while expressing that sentiment you do it anyway. Now, there are certain things that are handled, strictly by one person or the other in my house. I’ll set up the example.
Around the house I primarily handle garbage and cat litter duty, with the exception of days she knows people will be over while I’m at work. She handles most duties concerning our daughter and I pinch hit where I am able [read: won’t screw it up]. I clean the bathrooms and she cleans the rest. We share lawn duty, with me tackling the most treacherous parts. I keep the pool running, she keeps it clean. You can see where the style vs. substance roles play here.
When it comes to finances, my wife handles the cell phone, car insurance, water & sewage bills and I handle the rest (mortgage, utilities, car payments, etc.) Now, there is some give and take in regards to who actually pays for them but in general this is the division of labor. She does have her own credit card, but I told her not to use it because she gets a little crazy and we recently went through a bit of an issue over the past few years.
However, due to my work schedule I am sometimes unable to handle all of my responsibilities as it pertains to the hours available to achieve the task. In short, I asked my wife to get new tires on the car I primarily drive.
For awhile my back tires, which are probably a good two years old, have been losing air. Sometimes, it’s as much as 10-15 psi from the recommended 30psi. I drive an hour, both ways, from our home nestled in a satellite borough of Westmoreland County out towards the airport. I am in traffic and driving at the maximum *cough* speed limit *cough*.
So, in order for me to get my tires changed out, I need to go after work, on the weekend, or have her do it. Here’s three caveats.
I simply left her the keys, my credit card and the instructions for them to switch out the back tires for the new ones and then rotate the ones in the front, diagonally to the back. Simple, right?
I got a text at 10:30 this morning that said only this:
‘I hate u’
I attempted to call her and couldn’t get through. I texted back, “Answer your phone!” Bad service, she said, when she finally called me back.
She had been there forty minutes and they had not taken the car yet. When they finally did take it and she explained what she wanted, they eye rolled her. When they pulled the car in, their response was, “Well, the back tires are flat.”
Look, maybe I didn’t explain exactly what I wanted correctly. Perhaps I should have said, “Rotate the tires, diagonally and then replace the front ones.”
In my mind, telling someone you want the back tires replaced after you rotate them leaves the opportunity for them to replace the wrong one. Maybe I should have used a big white marker to draw an ‘X’ on the tires I wanted replaced, kind of like they do in hospitals when they want to ensure they operate on the right limb. I don’t know. I don’t think a medical degree is needed to understand that the back tires are flat and they need replaced with new snow tires for the upcoming winter. Also, those new tires, need to be on the front because the front ones haven’t been rotated in a bit. So, I simply said, “Replace the back tires, diagonally rotate the front ones to the back.”
Yet, the B-Team shows up and puts my wife in a position of having to troubleshoot something she isn’t used to handling with no experience in the matter.
Needless to say, I owe her dinner at her favorite Chinese place and she gets to have her credit card back.
I get that bill, too.
Around the house I primarily handle garbage and cat litter duty, with the exception of days she knows people will be over while I’m at work. She handles most duties concerning our daughter and I pinch hit where I am able [read: won’t screw it up]. I clean the bathrooms and she cleans the rest. We share lawn duty, with me tackling the most treacherous parts. I keep the pool running, she keeps it clean. You can see where the style vs. substance roles play here.
When it comes to finances, my wife handles the cell phone, car insurance, water & sewage bills and I handle the rest (mortgage, utilities, car payments, etc.) Now, there is some give and take in regards to who actually pays for them but in general this is the division of labor. She does have her own credit card, but I told her not to use it because she gets a little crazy and we recently went through a bit of an issue over the past few years.
However, due to my work schedule I am sometimes unable to handle all of my responsibilities as it pertains to the hours available to achieve the task. In short, I asked my wife to get new tires on the car I primarily drive.
For awhile my back tires, which are probably a good two years old, have been losing air. Sometimes, it’s as much as 10-15 psi from the recommended 30psi. I drive an hour, both ways, from our home nestled in a satellite borough of Westmoreland County out towards the airport. I am in traffic and driving at the maximum *cough* speed limit *cough*.
So, in order for me to get my tires changed out, I need to go after work, on the weekend, or have her do it. Here’s three caveats.
- They are not open past 5PM on weekdays and 12:00 PM on Saturdays.
- My wife works both days this coming weekend, which would leave me to do it, little monster in tow as well as another appointment that morning that I will have to drag her to, possibly missing the 12PM window.
- I don’t want to go to Walmart. I like my tire place.
I simply left her the keys, my credit card and the instructions for them to switch out the back tires for the new ones and then rotate the ones in the front, diagonally to the back. Simple, right?
I got a text at 10:30 this morning that said only this:
I attempted to call her and couldn’t get through. I texted back, “Answer your phone!” Bad service, she said, when she finally called me back.
She had been there forty minutes and they had not taken the car yet. When they finally did take it and she explained what she wanted, they eye rolled her. When they pulled the car in, their response was, “Well, the back tires are flat.”
Look, maybe I didn’t explain exactly what I wanted correctly. Perhaps I should have said, “Rotate the tires, diagonally and then replace the front ones.”
In my mind, telling someone you want the back tires replaced after you rotate them leaves the opportunity for them to replace the wrong one. Maybe I should have used a big white marker to draw an ‘X’ on the tires I wanted replaced, kind of like they do in hospitals when they want to ensure they operate on the right limb. I don’t know. I don’t think a medical degree is needed to understand that the back tires are flat and they need replaced with new snow tires for the upcoming winter. Also, those new tires, need to be on the front because the front ones haven’t been rotated in a bit. So, I simply said, “Replace the back tires, diagonally rotate the front ones to the back.”
Yet, the B-Team shows up and puts my wife in a position of having to troubleshoot something she isn’t used to handling with no experience in the matter.
Needless to say, I owe her dinner at her favorite Chinese place and she gets to have her credit card back.
I get that bill, too.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Merry Christmas To Me?
My issues with cars, good and bad, has nearly reached legendary status here on the blog. I’ve told you how I can pack nearly anything into a car, how much I loathe snow tires, how goofy electrical issues keep me up at night and how bad I have it with brakes, wheels and transmissions. I’ve also told you how Christmas can be very expensive to a car owner and that beings us up to date. Although, I expect each and every one of you to go back and read all those posts as a homework assignment. I’m kidding. You have far better things to read about, I’m sure. *sniff*
So, to summarily bring you up to speed, I used to drive a 97’ Chevy Cavalier, which I loved and then the head gasket blew in 2005. As my wife and I searched for a new car, I zeroed in on a 2005 Malibu Maxx. I drove it for two years until our daughter was born. I then handed over the keys [read: pried out of my hands] to her to have it as the Mom Mobile and began driving her 99’ Pontiac Sunfire. I drove that for two years in which time the transmission, gas gauge, air conditioning, brakes, rotors, exhaust and little volume knob on the radio broke or needed replaced. Each year instead of a car payment I put almost $500 into keeping it road worthy. Knowing full well that this car would not pass inspection at the end of the year I made the decision to start looking for a replacement.
Both my wife and I tend to differ on what is acceptable in price and features on most things including cars, vacation rentals and other things. Still, we work together well when it comes down to the important things like picking a color. I say that, lovingly, as my wife will be the enforcer and I can rely on her to help beat the sales person into submission, but she sometimes reveals too much when she walks in off the street. She’d make a great poker player, if the object was to show everyone your cards as soon as you get them. However, we did agree on one thing in our list of features we wanted in a new car, four cylinders.
That seems rather trivial but we have a V6 on the Maxx and it does eat a lot of gas, at least when she drives it. I can stretch a tank of gas on that thing to 300 miles and still have a quarter of a tank. She’s refilling at 220. But transmission speed aside, she kept telling me, “This is your car. You have to make the payment. It’s your decision.” Yet, every decision I made was met with criticism.
Let’s break down what I wanted on the new car.
Four Doors:
It’s nice to be able to get into the back seat of your own car without having to contort yourself into some weird position. There’s been a few times where I’ve had to grab the car seat from another car and put it into the back of the Pontiac and that is a pain in the ass. I’ve gone to pick my daughter up from being babysat with the Pontiac and she does most of the work getting into and out of the car seat because of how far it sits back from the door.
Four Cylinders:
I do a lot of back road driving on hills to get to work. A V6 is nice to have on those hills, but I only need 4 cylinders everywhere else. That being said, I shunned a lot of cheaper cars because of the size of the engine. 2.0 or better was what I wanted. This pissed me wife off as much as my insistence on 1080p vs. 720p when we shopped for an LCD HDTV. She doesn’t understand those things, she looks at the price.
Hatchback:
I love having the Maxx because it’s a wagon/hatchback. Even though, I’ve managed to fit a 32” television set into the back seat of the a coupe, it’s nice to have that hatch and fold down seats. When we were shopping for the Maxx, I looked at Cobalts and besides being over priced I did not like that the back seat did not fold down flat. I was able to fit a 7’ Christmas tree, still in the box, into the trunk and back seat of my Cavalier. The opening between the trunk and back seat and the angle of which the back seat pitched up when laid down would make it impossible. Now, my wife says this is unnecessary since we have the hatch on the Maxx. I told her, “No, you have the Maxx. I may need it when you are out.”
When we began looking for the car, the auto industry was floundering. I figured it was a good time to buy. I knew I had a good six months to really make a final decision but getting the sales team to sweat it out with me and bring down the bottom line was intriguing. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t pull the trigger on buying a new car. My wife wanted me to get used but at the time, I told her that used car prices were bloated because of the profit margins on them. The brand new vehicles eat into the overhead the longer they sit on the lot. I’d be willing to get a previous year model, brand new, over used vehicle because of the inflated prices. They only way I’d consider a pre-owned vehicle is if it had less than 15,000 miles per year since its production and was less than $15,000. My wife went with $10,000 but I told her that was too much to hope for.
With all those variables in mind I narrowed my choice down to a Top Four List of cars.
I started with the Kia Soul. Regardless of what others thought, I believed it to be a good car.
It had exactly what I wanted in features and I was really ready to loosen my grip on owning a GM vehicle. The Maxx and Sunfire has been hard on brakes, rotors, and other maintenance items that I never had to worry about before on the Cavalier. Being a new model for 2010, there was no way I was going to be able to negotiate pricing.
I then checked out the Scion XD. Scion seemed like a reliable manufacture because of them being part of Toyota. The pure pricing thing irks me because there is no haggle room. I’m sorry, but when they promote that as being beneficial to the customer, it’s really not. They say that because they can’t budge on pricing, you don’t have to worry about the dealer raking you over the coals on pricing and you can go to any dealer and get the same price. I say that it’s crap because then you get screwed on all the additional charges that dealers pad the bottom line with not to mention, I don’t believe that pure pricing addresses the true cost of the vehicle. The bar was set too high from the beginning. Even the used models are maybe a hundred dollars cheaper. Sorry, but where’s that standard 20% depreciation on a car after being driven off the lot? The XD get left for the XB once I sat in one. I nearly clunked my head on the XD but the price on the XB made it impossible to consider.
Chevy HHR was my silver bullet to all this. It had all the features and it was still a GM car which meant I could haggle over brand loyalty, use my GM card rewards, and take advantage of the GM financial issues to bring a new car down into my price range. I could never find one at a dealer. They are either that popular or nobody wants one on their lot. I did find a few used ones that I would have considered but never made it out to a dealer to talk before it was already bought.
Toyota Matrix was a pie in the sky dream that I could never have afforded, even used as most were only in my price range if they had close to 100,000 miles on them. People told me, “Well if you like the Matrix, buy a Pontiac Vibe. No chance. I don’t care how much crap you sling about the Vibe being built on a Matrix chassis. It’s still got Pontiac wiring and that transmission is suspect. In any case, the Vibe was way out of my price range as well. It was a fall back if all else failed.
I thought I’d never get a car at this rate and soon I began noticing that the Sunfire was leaking something. At first I thought the gas line had a hole in it because it always smelled like gas. Then, I noticed black puddles on the ground. I checked the oil and it was full. Someone suggested transmission fluid. Nope. Another suggested something from the head was leaking. The problems were mounting. Now, I couldn’t even start the car unless I turned the key, then stopped, pumped the gas pedal a couple of times and then tried the key again. And on top of all that, the muffler rusted out and the thing sounded awful.
My in-laws had just purchased a PT Cruiser and loved it. They got it used and relatively cheap with low mileage. I had not read anything good on the PT and it was just a little small in the front for my taste. That was another red x on the XD and Soul, the front ends were short and living in deer central, I didn’t want one to come through the dashboard by way of the grille. With only two weeks before the inspection was to run out I made a last ditch effort on searching for cars. It appeared as if the auto industry crisis was over since all the prices on cars were back up again and I missed out on the cash for clunkers deal because the Sunfire wasn’t eligible due to gas mileage. If I had tried to push back a decision and get the Pontiac inspected I would have ended up sinking a good $500 or more into it before the sticker could even go on the plate.
There was a used PT Cruiser at the same dealership my in-laws bought theirs. 2006 touring model with 37,000 miles on it for less than $11,000. I looked up the blue book value and it came back at $9700. I was ready to settle. I walked into the lot and started to make the deal. As we were walking back to the office my wife and I noticed a sharp white vehicle staring at us.
Buy Me
Now, I have no experience with brands outside of GM so I don’t know what is good and what is bad, but I’ve always thought that Mazda had a good reputation. Sitting here was a 2006, Mazda 5 Sport with 37,000 miles on it for a couple thousand more. We wanted to talk numbers before driving it. I managed to work the dealer down $1800 dollars with a trade on the Pontiac. Go figure. Who would have thought I could have gotten anything for that POS? Granted, I know I really got zero for the Pontiac and the dealer was being resistant about bringing down the price since my wife was willing to take the PT Cruiser one way or the other. Also, we came in looking for a small car and ended up being interested in a minivan. Actually, it made a lot of sense. With the Maxx only being a five door sedan we are limited in expanding the family anytime soon. Also, whenever we go anywhere with her parents, we have to take two vehicles to fit everyone. A minivan would solve the problem for awhile and then we could eventually replace the Malibu with a sedan.
After all was said and done we worked out the particulars and took the Mazda for a test drive. I liked it. It had plenty of room, being a six passenger vehicle. It was a four cylinder, hatch back, and both rear doors were sliding. The visibility in front was great. I didn’t like how low to ground it was as going over speed bumps was tense and I didn’t like how there was more wheel than tire on it. Still, it was acceptable and it only took my wife driving it to want it, too. We walked back in and made the deal. I was psyched. The weight of this decision had been bearing down on me for months. Having to drive that leaky, noisy, death trap around was almost unbearable. Finally, I was going to be able to tool around in a car less than ten years old that has a hatch back and four doors. Finally, my wife was on board with a car purchase and we agreed on everything. Finally, I was getting to drive what I want.
I am now the proud driver of a Malibu Maxx...again.
Yeah, I got played. Merry Christmas, honey. Enjoy it.
Monday, April 13, 2009
End Of Transmission
I’m sitting here at a McDonald’s located inside a Wal Mart, wrapped around an enigma. Now, you might say, “What moron brings a laptop to Wal Mart to write a blog post?” The kind that has let his oil change go way over due and has to sit and wait forever for them to get stains all over my upholstery and overcharge him for the service. Yeah, it’s like $25 for a basic oil change, now. I remember when the high end service was $18. Also, they don’t overhead page which sends me to the bullpen of expectant car owners waiting for them to call them. Finally, they removed the garbage cans from around the door. I had a lot of empty water bottles to add to the crack pipes and heroin needles usually found in the overflowing garbage can. But that’s not what this post is about. No. No.
I need a new car…another one. You see, the Malibu Maxx, which is getting violated by the grease monkey with long bearded and wool cap with the tassels hanging down like a Hasidic Hippie, is running fine. It’s my other car that has shit the bed. It’s a 99 Sunfire with about 70,000 miles on it. It’s an R-Title that I picked up from my wife’s grandmother. It’s paid for and has already lost air conditioning, the radio knob, and a considerable amount of paint on the passenger’s side front quarter panel. It’s the one that I just dropped $500 on getting new brakes, a brake line, tires, and rotors. It’s also the one that has had a transmission rebuilt on it in 2002. Well, guess what just went?
I was actually having a great day. Work was going well. I was feeling accomplished. I was heading home to play with my daughter, do some shirts for my CafePress store and maybe fit in a little Wii before dinner. I was coming up my hill and something happened. Next thing I know, the RPMs went up and the speedometer went down. That’s never a good sign when you’re in gear on a steep hill. I managed to stick it in neutral and drift back into a driveway. Then after generally cursing everything around me, I called my wife, who was teaching piano at the time and she sent her Father down to retrieve me. I was 50 feet from my driveway. How much does that suck? I couldn’t leave it where it was, so I turned the wheels and let gravity drag me down the hill. In all my cursing, I managed to thank the heavens for Isaac Newton. I maneuvered the car into a parking lot which doesn’t allow overnight parking and explained my case to the owners.
I called the father of one my wife’s students who happens to work at a garage and has done some side work for me in the past. He towed the car to the house and it’s now sitting in my driveway while I figure out my next move. Being a holiday weekend, it’s hard to get anything accomplished. I tried putting some transmission fluid in but that didn’t seem to help. I’ve noticed that the tranny was slipping but thought it was just merely age. Now, I have until Tuesday to figure something out because my wife needs a car for work.
They say that now is the best time to buy a car. There are deals out the wazoo and dealers are looking to move inventory. I still have to pay off the Malibu, which is probably yelping as I write, poor thing. I say the best time to buy a car is when you don’t need one. There’s no pressure to buy. There’s no sense of urgency to make a deal and usually when you need to make a huge purchase, everything else comes crashing down around you forcing you into further debt. The law of averages always dictates that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong, and all at once.
My Mother-in-Law just got over brain surgery and as a reward; we are taking her and my Father-in-Law to the Outer Banks their other daughter’s wedding this June. I’ve sunk a lot of money into that. I also just spent $500 of other people’s money on a Wii. I could have used that back. I can only imagine what the rest of April and May hold in store for me and my family. The last thing we need is for a pet to die….oh wait, that happened to my Sister-in-Law over the weekend. I’m liable to buy a car and my air conditioning or furnace may blow up.
Which brings me back to my point, now is the best time for someone to buy a car that doesn’t need it. I remember the last time I bought a car. The head gasket on my 97 Cavalier went in 05 and we needed to replace that car. We knew we were going to be starting a family and planned for that by purchasing a Malibu Maxx wagon during that whole employee pricing bonanza that happened a few years back. Even with the employee pricing we couldn’t get our payment down under $200 a month. I think we were at $207 or something. I’ll never forget it. It was close to nine in the evening and when the salesman gave us that number; my wife looked at him and said, “Nope.” He was shocked. “You’re going to walk away over $10?” She said, “Yeah.” She’s the bad cop. It’s a good thing. He came back with less than $200 and with our GM card rewards we managed to knock it a few dollars more to $193. The poor guy was twitching when we drove off the lot. Still, I felt sad saying goodbye to my Cavalier. That thing got me through a lot of good times and bad over the seven years. I still miss it in some ways.
With this Sunfire, it’s a different story. I’ve always had a small amount of dislike for Pontiacs. My first car was an 84 Firebird with flip up headlights. I loved that car. For a 17 year old, it was awesome to have this Mullet Mobile to drive around. Then the transmission went out, oddly enough on the hill up to my parents’ house. Then, the electrical system went haywire and I had to constantly switch fuses around to get things to work. I could either have wipers or memory on my radio, interior lights or a horn. I remember being at a Softball game with my high school girlfriend and getting caught in a torrential downpour. There I was, dripping wet, hanging upside down under the dash in the bucket seat flipping fuses around to get wipers. Finally, some guy hit me in a parking lot and put a crease in one of the headlights. Now, all my car could do is wink. I tried to honk the horn and warn him but I didn’t have the correct configuration of fuses for that act. So, the fact that 15 years later, another Pontiac is giving me trouble doesn’t make me want to feel heartbroken when I drive away from it for the last time.
Well, I imagine my car is done and I would have liked to post this from the McDonald’s but I have no Internet access. It’s not Starbucks or Panera, I guess. Maybe, by the time this hits the blog, I will be in a new or used car. But, with my luck, I’m sure I won’t. It’s a holiday weekend and I don’t take chances with the holidays. I’ll wait until next week when the dust has settled.
Friday, March 14, 2008
How to pack a life in a car
It seems rather premature to discuss vacations and road trips when outside my window I still see salt covered cars and ice dunes in the parking lot. However, let us turn our thoughts towards warmer weather and packing the car for trips. You don't have any choice, so just sit down and stop bugging your sister or I'll turn this blog around so, help me, I swear.
As I look at what it takes to go anywhere with my eight month old, I'm reminded that this is payback for my parents. They, of course, packed all of us kids into a truck or a station wagon for long trips to the beach and to college. I considered my Father a master packer, being able to utilize every available space in the vehicle for storage of our stuff. I took that same approach when purchasing a replacement vehicle for limping 97' Chevy Cavalier three years ago. While my younger, less experienced packer of a wife, wanted a car with a good sound system. She even went as far as to suggest the ability to install extra speakers. That way, we could blast our greatest hits of Snoop Dogg and Maroon 5. After patting her on her head and chuckling at her naivety, I reminded her that, even though this would eventually become her car after we have a child, she would need the extra space for a car seat and everything the child owns.
Back to my Father. The man drove a Chevy Custom Deluxe Truck with a cap on the back. This truck had seen it all. When we went camping, it was able to tow a camper that contained all of our stuff, yet the cab of the truck could not contain all of their kids. My Dad became the inventor of the wonderful thing, which I thought was me, until the age of ten. The wonderful thing is simply a metaphor for something that previously existed in nature as some other sort of object or objects which have been disassembled and rebuilt into another functional object for which it was not originally designed for. One example of the wonderful thing was a charcoal grill built entirely out of a 55 gallon drum, lawnmower wheels, my childhood swing set, and counter top remnants. This fully functioning grill gave my Dad backyard supremacy in the realm of burger and hot dog grilling, allowing him to simultaneously cook for an entire graduation party without having to reload the grill. Another example of a wonderful thing was a homemade forge constructed out of a kettle grill and a shop vac that he used to build other wonderful things.
The most wonderful thing my Father built was an insert for that Custom Deluxe. The components for the insert have been regarded as a trade secret but I can tell you that part of it was fashioned from an old table top. The insert mirrored the functionality of the eating table in the camper. By day, the table and its bench seats served as a place to eat breakfast and play Pit and UNO. By night, it transformed and became a bed for my sister. Just like the camper, the insert slash wonderful thing was more than meets the eye. It also consisted of two bench seats that could be opened up for storage and a table post affixed to a base that slid into the bed of the truck. On long trips it served as a place to store three adolescent kids, playing Trouble. You could only play Trouble in the back of the truck, because all the pieces fit securely into holes on the board and the die was encased in the "Pop-O-Matic" container. We tried playing Trivial Pursuit once but some dumbass cut my Dad off on I-95 and cards flew everywhere. We no longer can finish the game as the pink game piece, nor will we ever find out how many cherubs are located on the game board. (In case you wondered, there's actually 19. Two on either side of every "wedge" square, six around the hub in the middle, and one in a pink category square somewhere on the board. But, I digress. ) By night, the post could be removed and the table top positioned in between the bench seats. All four cushions came together to form the mattress. This is where my brother slept. Where did I sleep? There was a bunk right above the couch in the camper that I wedged myself into for about 4 years until I kept banging my head on the ceiling getting in and out.
Alas, the insert was laid to rest along with the truck when my father had replaced the Custom Deluxe with a Dodge Ram in the early 90's. The Dodge also got some packing use out of it when I started college. For some unknown reason, I felt the need to move all my Earthly possessions with me to South Carolina where I was enrolled at Coastal Carolina University. Hey, you never know when you might need something and being 12 hours away didn't help. My father managed to pack everything I owned including another wonderful thing in the form of a headboard with shelves. This technically wasn't a wonderful thing, but considering that it used to be a tree, let's not split hairs. The cushions from the old insert survived the transition from Chevy to Dodge and I rode the entire 12 hours on them in the back of the truck in a space that reminded me of the bunk from the camper. Funny thing about traveling south in the back of a truck. If you leave home wearing shorts, you arrive wearing shorts. I transferred to the University of Pittsburgh in January of 1994, and found myself wearing shorts when we left Mytle Beach, and then having to put on more layers somewhere around Virginia after dark.
A 1984 Pontiac Firebird similar to mine
College moves and desertion of an apartment in under three hours aside, my father was able to pack a car or a truck to the hilt, never necessitating the need for more than one trip. This is something I have studied and tried to hone as a marketable skill. My first car, a 1984 Pontiac Firebird didn't really allow for a lot of trunk space, but the "Plugger" in me decided that I would not be deterred by such obstacles. In 1994, I packed enough stuff for myself and my girlfriend to take a vacation to Ocean City, Maryland. For anyone who has ever owned a 80's model Firebird knows it has a shallow trunk with a big hump between it and the back seat. Without sacrificing visibility out of the rear window, I managed to pack for a week long trip. My second car was, of course, my Chevy Cavalier. I loved this car for two reasons. Aside from some starter problems, it never let me down in getting from Point A to Point B. I drove that car everywhere. Staring from my home in Southwestern Pennsylvania, it went to Ohio, New York, West Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Canada. Secondly, it had a fold down bench seat in the back which allowed for great packing possibilities. Again, I managed to pack enough stuff for a week's vacation without sacrificing needed visibility. When I bought my first Christmas tree (It was artificial as I am allergic) the box, containing the seven foot spruce, slid smoothly into the trunk and onto the folded down back seat. When I bought my first 32 inch television, it fit in between the back seat and trunk laying face down on a blanket to guard the screen. Unfortunately, I had to remove the set from the packing box as it did not fit in the car whole. Still, I managed to do it.
1997 Chevy Cavalier
In 2005, after nearly 150 thousand miles and a blown head gasket, I sadly said goodbye to my Cavalier in favor of my new car, a Malibu Maxx. This five door sweetie allows me hatch functionality with 60/40 split fold down bench seats in the back and a fold down passenger seat for hauling long items. I've yet to max out the storage space even with the little one.
2005 Chevy Malibu Maxx
While, I revel in my accomplishment of being a master packer, I take no credit as I was taught by the best. However, I'm sure I'll be faced with challenges in packing strategy in the future as I will have to now pack for three people to go to the beach, losing a portion of my coveted backseat to a car seat. Not to mention having to eventually pack the entire life of my kids when they go to college. By then, I will have moved on to another vehicle, but will always keep an eye on how much storage space comes with my purchase. Perhaps I will echo my Father's creative side and construct some sort of enhancement for maximization of minimal space. After all, I want to make sure I have lots of space to move my wonderful things from point A to point B.
As I look at what it takes to go anywhere with my eight month old, I'm reminded that this is payback for my parents. They, of course, packed all of us kids into a truck or a station wagon for long trips to the beach and to college. I considered my Father a master packer, being able to utilize every available space in the vehicle for storage of our stuff. I took that same approach when purchasing a replacement vehicle for limping 97' Chevy Cavalier three years ago. While my younger, less experienced packer of a wife, wanted a car with a good sound system. She even went as far as to suggest the ability to install extra speakers. That way, we could blast our greatest hits of Snoop Dogg and Maroon 5. After patting her on her head and chuckling at her naivety, I reminded her that, even though this would eventually become her car after we have a child, she would need the extra space for a car seat and everything the child owns.
Back to my Father. The man drove a Chevy Custom Deluxe Truck with a cap on the back. This truck had seen it all. When we went camping, it was able to tow a camper that contained all of our stuff, yet the cab of the truck could not contain all of their kids. My Dad became the inventor of the wonderful thing, which I thought was me, until the age of ten. The wonderful thing is simply a metaphor for something that previously existed in nature as some other sort of object or objects which have been disassembled and rebuilt into another functional object for which it was not originally designed for. One example of the wonderful thing was a charcoal grill built entirely out of a 55 gallon drum, lawnmower wheels, my childhood swing set, and counter top remnants. This fully functioning grill gave my Dad backyard supremacy in the realm of burger and hot dog grilling, allowing him to simultaneously cook for an entire graduation party without having to reload the grill. Another example of a wonderful thing was a homemade forge constructed out of a kettle grill and a shop vac that he used to build other wonderful things.
The most wonderful thing my Father built was an insert for that Custom Deluxe. The components for the insert have been regarded as a trade secret but I can tell you that part of it was fashioned from an old table top. The insert mirrored the functionality of the eating table in the camper. By day, the table and its bench seats served as a place to eat breakfast and play Pit and UNO. By night, it transformed and became a bed for my sister. Just like the camper, the insert slash wonderful thing was more than meets the eye. It also consisted of two bench seats that could be opened up for storage and a table post affixed to a base that slid into the bed of the truck. On long trips it served as a place to store three adolescent kids, playing Trouble. You could only play Trouble in the back of the truck, because all the pieces fit securely into holes on the board and the die was encased in the "Pop-O-Matic" container. We tried playing Trivial Pursuit once but some dumbass cut my Dad off on I-95 and cards flew everywhere. We no longer can finish the game as the pink game piece, nor will we ever find out how many cherubs are located on the game board. (In case you wondered, there's actually 19. Two on either side of every "wedge" square, six around the hub in the middle, and one in a pink category square somewhere on the board. But, I digress. ) By night, the post could be removed and the table top positioned in between the bench seats. All four cushions came together to form the mattress. This is where my brother slept. Where did I sleep? There was a bunk right above the couch in the camper that I wedged myself into for about 4 years until I kept banging my head on the ceiling getting in and out.
The 1980 Chevy Custom Deluxe
Alas, the insert was laid to rest along with the truck when my father had replaced the Custom Deluxe with a Dodge Ram in the early 90's. The Dodge also got some packing use out of it when I started college. For some unknown reason, I felt the need to move all my Earthly possessions with me to South Carolina where I was enrolled at Coastal Carolina University. Hey, you never know when you might need something and being 12 hours away didn't help. My father managed to pack everything I owned including another wonderful thing in the form of a headboard with shelves. This technically wasn't a wonderful thing, but considering that it used to be a tree, let's not split hairs. The cushions from the old insert survived the transition from Chevy to Dodge and I rode the entire 12 hours on them in the back of the truck in a space that reminded me of the bunk from the camper. Funny thing about traveling south in the back of a truck. If you leave home wearing shorts, you arrive wearing shorts. I transferred to the University of Pittsburgh in January of 1994, and found myself wearing shorts when we left Mytle Beach, and then having to put on more layers somewhere around Virginia after dark.
A 1984 Pontiac Firebird similar to mine
College moves and desertion of an apartment in under three hours aside, my father was able to pack a car or a truck to the hilt, never necessitating the need for more than one trip. This is something I have studied and tried to hone as a marketable skill. My first car, a 1984 Pontiac Firebird didn't really allow for a lot of trunk space, but the "Plugger" in me decided that I would not be deterred by such obstacles. In 1994, I packed enough stuff for myself and my girlfriend to take a vacation to Ocean City, Maryland. For anyone who has ever owned a 80's model Firebird knows it has a shallow trunk with a big hump between it and the back seat. Without sacrificing visibility out of the rear window, I managed to pack for a week long trip. My second car was, of course, my Chevy Cavalier. I loved this car for two reasons. Aside from some starter problems, it never let me down in getting from Point A to Point B. I drove that car everywhere. Staring from my home in Southwestern Pennsylvania, it went to Ohio, New York, West Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Canada. Secondly, it had a fold down bench seat in the back which allowed for great packing possibilities. Again, I managed to pack enough stuff for a week's vacation without sacrificing needed visibility. When I bought my first Christmas tree (It was artificial as I am allergic) the box, containing the seven foot spruce, slid smoothly into the trunk and onto the folded down back seat. When I bought my first 32 inch television, it fit in between the back seat and trunk laying face down on a blanket to guard the screen. Unfortunately, I had to remove the set from the packing box as it did not fit in the car whole. Still, I managed to do it.
1997 Chevy Cavalier
In 2005, after nearly 150 thousand miles and a blown head gasket, I sadly said goodbye to my Cavalier in favor of my new car, a Malibu Maxx. This five door sweetie allows me hatch functionality with 60/40 split fold down bench seats in the back and a fold down passenger seat for hauling long items. I've yet to max out the storage space even with the little one.
2005 Chevy Malibu Maxx
While, I revel in my accomplishment of being a master packer, I take no credit as I was taught by the best. However, I'm sure I'll be faced with challenges in packing strategy in the future as I will have to now pack for three people to go to the beach, losing a portion of my coveted backseat to a car seat. Not to mention having to eventually pack the entire life of my kids when they go to college. By then, I will have moved on to another vehicle, but will always keep an eye on how much storage space comes with my purchase. Perhaps I will echo my Father's creative side and construct some sort of enhancement for maximization of minimal space. After all, I want to make sure I have lots of space to move my wonderful things from point A to point B.
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