Park or speed
There is something morally incongruous, I feel, about an SUV with a handicap license plate sitting in the emergency room parking lot with a radar detector stuck to the windshield.
You already get to park wherever. You make us feel a little sorry for you, even if you don't want us to. And now you want to cheat on the highways, too?
Lazy.
Driving is a skill. Driving on the highways of this fair land requires constant attention and quick reflexes, looking ahead, judging curves, hills, and other cars' actions. (Or you could just be a woman and get away with anything.*) It's more difficult at night, granted. Which is when I've been pulled over the most, and, to my recollection, not since 1997. For going 14 over in North Dakota, for a fine of ... $14.
*not that I'm bitter
It was great driving around when Ainsley was pregnant, because I thought that would be a pretty good excuse for pretending to be in a hurry, though I never had to use it (not that I would fib to the boys in blue, no sir!). Still, the best defense is to not be in a hurry, which kind of goes with my personality, which bugs the hell out of my wife when we're walking along in a mall, which she equates to an elephant lumbering along in a scene from "The Jungle Book." Though I don't think any of them were called "Pokey."
Speaking of driving, we're in the market for a new car, as my wonderful T-bird has passed the 140,000-mile marker and continues to defy longevity expectations. We want something bigger, with four doors of course, easier to get a child in and out of, and something I can haul bigger "stuff" in, while at the same time not being a wallet-guzzling gas sucker. Looking at the compact SUV hybrids on the market, which are few, so it helps narrow down the choices. My dad offered to babysit my last Saturday home so we could go out as a couple, but since neither of us could think of a restaurant we HAD to go to, we decided to go test-drive a Toyota Highlander Hybrid instead. Krum /cddroom/ Ivanov, a Macedonian transplant, was a nice enough sales rep but relatively new and couldn't answer a lot of our questions (or, indeed, find us a Hybrid to drive for thirty-five minutes). The "third row seat" was a joke, barely passable as a ledge on which to cool a pie*, let alone get a human to sit comfortably in. I also couldn't get comfortable in the driver's seat, as the console wrapped too closely around my legs. And then, Mr. Slick William Cliche Shiny Purple Tie, the 'manager' (not his real name) just HAD to come out and ask if we were ready to make an offer, and he just epitomized annoying salesmen (he called me "Kevin") and put me off the whole shopping experience, and, to tell the truth, purple things in general.
*not recommended on the highway
I've made some appointments to drive some other models this weekend, but we're in no rush, which hopefully works in our favor. ("Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease buy our car!" is the message I hope to get on my cell phone by mid-month.)
You already get to park wherever. You make us feel a little sorry for you, even if you don't want us to. And now you want to cheat on the highways, too?
Lazy.
Driving is a skill. Driving on the highways of this fair land requires constant attention and quick reflexes, looking ahead, judging curves, hills, and other cars' actions. (Or you could just be a woman and get away with anything.*) It's more difficult at night, granted. Which is when I've been pulled over the most, and, to my recollection, not since 1997. For going 14 over in North Dakota, for a fine of ... $14.
*not that I'm bitter
It was great driving around when Ainsley was pregnant, because I thought that would be a pretty good excuse for pretending to be in a hurry, though I never had to use it (not that I would fib to the boys in blue, no sir!). Still, the best defense is to not be in a hurry, which kind of goes with my personality, which bugs the hell out of my wife when we're walking along in a mall, which she equates to an elephant lumbering along in a scene from "The Jungle Book." Though I don't think any of them were called "Pokey."
Speaking of driving, we're in the market for a new car, as my wonderful T-bird has passed the 140,000-mile marker and continues to defy longevity expectations. We want something bigger, with four doors of course, easier to get a child in and out of, and something I can haul bigger "stuff" in, while at the same time not being a wallet-guzzling gas sucker. Looking at the compact SUV hybrids on the market, which are few, so it helps narrow down the choices. My dad offered to babysit my last Saturday home so we could go out as a couple, but since neither of us could think of a restaurant we HAD to go to, we decided to go test-drive a Toyota Highlander Hybrid instead. Krum /cddroom/ Ivanov, a Macedonian transplant, was a nice enough sales rep but relatively new and couldn't answer a lot of our questions (or, indeed, find us a Hybrid to drive for thirty-five minutes). The "third row seat" was a joke, barely passable as a ledge on which to cool a pie*, let alone get a human to sit comfortably in. I also couldn't get comfortable in the driver's seat, as the console wrapped too closely around my legs. And then, Mr. Slick William Cliche Shiny Purple Tie, the 'manager' (not his real name) just HAD to come out and ask if we were ready to make an offer, and he just epitomized annoying salesmen (he called me "Kevin") and put me off the whole shopping experience, and, to tell the truth, purple things in general.
*not recommended on the highway
I've made some appointments to drive some other models this weekend, but we're in no rush, which hopefully works in our favor. ("Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease buy our car!" is the message I hope to get on my cell phone by mid-month.)
posted by Dan at 10:09 AM
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