The spider

I got a new car.  It's a 2017 Fiat 124 Spider.  Here is a photo:

Gorgeous, right?  It's a convertible.  It is an awesome car.  Fun to drive.  Stick shift.  Turbo.  Quick 0 to 60 ( or 80... ).  Best car ever!

As my friend Sandy said, "Way to rock the midlife crisis, LegalMist!"

Question:  does it count as a midlife crisis car if you have wanted it since you were 25 but couldn't make it work until now?  Actually, I wanted a Mazda Miata when they came out in 1989.  Here is a 1989 Miata:

Cute, right?

But I was just about to start law school (in 1990) and couldn't afford one.  So in 1992, I got a used 1987 Honda Prelude instead.  It was awesome too. Sporty. Stick shift. Moon Roof.  Quick acceleration.  Fun!

Then I graduated, got married, had kids, and a Miata just wasn't practical.  In fact, I had to sell the Prelude to get a car with 4 doors and room for a child safety seat.  I got a Toyota Corolla (the "Green Lady").

Well, LegalMist's Daughter (LMD) is off to college this fall, leaving only LegalMist's Son (LMS) as a potential passenger (I am planning a divorce, remember?), so a two-seater became  a possibility... I decided to get that Miata.

But then I read the Consumer Reports car guide and saw the Fiat 124 Spider, reinvented for 2017.  It was even prettier than the Miata.  Sporty.  Convertible.  Cute...  I held out for the test drive.  Finally, on July 12, the spider arrived at the dealer... I showed up right when they opened to test drive the car.  Drove the automatic.  The stick shift.  The upgraded, all-options version.  The stripped down, no frills version. Looked at all the colors.  Considered all the options.

Side note:  I loved the blue one.  But to get blue, one had to buy the "Prima Edizione" version with all options, including automatic transmission (what's the fun in that?!) and leather seats (in Arizona, I prefer cloth).  They only made 124 of them (get it? The "124" spider?), and they came with the free t-shirt and poster and a numbered plaque on the dashboard to tell you which one you got.  But it cost $11,000 more than the stick-shift, cloth-seated model that I preferred.  In the end, I decided that blue paint and automatic transmission was *not* worth $11,000, so I bought the gray one pictured above.  Here is a photo of the pretty blue one:

Nice, huh?  But I think the gray is pretty too.

I love my car.  It is so fun to drive to work now.  It makes me smile every time I see it.  I call it my "Midlife Crisis Mobile," and it is a bright spot of joy in my otherwise not-as-joyful-as-I-wish-it-were life.  At least on the way to and from work, I can pretend to be the happy, carefree young person that I used to be instead of the somewhat sad, about-to-be-divorced, almost-old person that I actually am.


The car turns heads, even if I don't any longer.

What Should I Do?

Help!  Which sign should I obey?

I swear, driving in New Orleans can be so very confusing! 

Wasabe

Have you ever had wasabe?  It's the green spicy stuff often served with sushi. 

I snapped a picture of this license plate a while back, using my cell phone.  It was dark out, so it was hard to get a good picture.

Indeed, the vehicle was the color of wasabe.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to find a good sushi bar...

MKNMONEY

While driving my daughter to swim team practice last night, we stopped at a light behind a car with a license plate that said, simply:

MKNMONEY

I said to my daughter:  "Seems to me that license plate ought to be on a Mercedes or a Lexus, not a Honda Civic."

Said she:  "Well, it only says she's 'Making' money, not that she actually has any."

Good point, that.

State Farm Is Awesome

Usually people complain about their insurance companies.  I love mine.

I have had State Farm auto insurance since at least 1988.  Possibly longer.  When we bought our home, I insured our home through State Farm as well.

Yes, I am a lawyer, and I have read the "bad faith" insurance cases with State Farm as the defendant.  But either they have learned their lesson, or they reserve their alleged "bad faith" for people other than me.  State Farm has always treated me well. They have never denied a claim, and I have had my fair share of claims -- windshields that needed replacing, fender benders, vandalism, theft, lost a part of our roof in a storm once...  State Farm always just pays the claim, quickly and generally without any hassle.

Recently I was in a fender-bender in my 1998 Lincoln Town Car, which I basically inherited when my grandmother died.  It is a beautiful car, silver gray, with only about 45,000 miles on it (35,000 when I got it last year).  It is truly a luxury vehicle, with all the "bells & whistles" including heated front seats and a sun roof; it is soooo comfortable with its smooth, cool, thick and soft leather seats; it is in near mint condition; and it handles very well, too.  I love it.

(I got rid of my beloved Chrysler - my first new car ever! - last year when I got the (practically antique) Lincoln, because even though I loved the Chrysler, it seemed foolish to keep making car payments when I could drive the even-more-luxurious-if-somewhat-older Lincoln for free).

The fender-bender caused an estimated $3500 worth of damage to my beautiful car (estimates at three shops that I went to ranged from $2700 to $4000, with an average of $3500).  It doesn't take much damage to total $3500.... a broken headlamp, dented hood, dented bumper, and dented front grille did the job....

The bluebook value on the car is somewhere around $4000.  State Farm initially said they intended to "total out" the car because the cost to repair it was higher than the book value would justify.  They explained that this meant they would give me the money for it and I could still keep the car (and repair it or not, my choice), but that I would then have a "salvage" title.  So I could continue to drive the car, but likely would have trouble selling it if I ever wanted to, and they would provide liability insurance if I wanted them to, but no more collision or comprehensive coverage.  Ick.  I did not want a "salvage" title.  I was starting to fear my first ever hassle and/or denied claim with State Farm.  (I looked it up later, though, and this is pretty standard operating procedure for insurance companies, so they weren't doing anything unusual.)

I explained the car's sentimental value and the fact that it had only 45,000 miles on it -- years of usability!  -- and the fact that it is a beautiful car with all the luxuries and I love it.

They said, "OK, take it to the repair shop of your choice, and let's see how much it actually takes to repair it.  If it goes over about $2800 (70% of the value), the presumption is that we are supposed to total it out, but before we make that decision, we'll look at it more closely to determine value, and if the cost to repair is only a few hundred over the value we determine, we will consider your desires and the sentimental value of the car, instead of just setting an arbitrary "kill" number."

Well, the $3500 estimate was pretty accurate.  It was $3600 to repair.  But State Farm paid it and did not "total out" my car.

But wait!  There's more!

While the car was being repaired, I was scheduled to go on vacation, so I took advantage of the rental car coverage I maintain on my policy, and took the rental car on vacation.

The car was ready on Monday.

I was not scheduled to return from vacation until late last night (Tuesday) / early this morning (Wednesday).  In fact, I arrived home around 2 a.m.

State Farm initially had covered the rental car through Monday, which meant I would have had to pay for yesterday and today.

I called and asked if they would cover the extra two days for the rental car since I had been in California and unable to pick it up on Monday, and they said yes.  Just like that. Not even a moment's hesitation.

I love State Farm.  If you do not have State Farm insurance, you should!

"Ask and Ye Shall Receive"... or, "Wake Up and Look Around, You Idiot!"

We had a big dust storm two days ago here in the Valley of the Sun.  The wind blew and blew, and the dust was so thick it looked like fog.  It wasn't quite a "Haboob" like the one I wrote about a couple of years ago, along with a cool video, here -- it did not have the rolling clouds of dust you get with those -- but it was very windy and dusty for most of the day.

Then in the evening, it rained for about 5 minutes.

Five minutes was just enough rain to clear the skies of all that dirt - yay! .... and deposit it all onto my poor car -- bummer!

So after the 5 minutes of rain, my car looked like I had gone off-roading for hours through the mud.  It was literally covered.  It was muddy brown instead of silver-gray.  I could hardly see out of the windshield when I got in the car to take the kids to school the next morning (yesterday).  So I drove straight to the gas station and washed the windshield.  Better for driving, yes, but my car still looked a mud cake.

It was cloudy and a little windy again yesterday so I didn't want to wash the car - figuring either it would rain and this time would rain long enough to clean my car or it would rain for 5 minutes again, just long enough to make the car dirty, and either way, washing it first was a waste of time.

It didn't rain again.  This morning, the skies were clear blue, with only a few little puffy white pretty clouds.  And my car still looked like I had taken it off-roading, which might be an OK look if it were an SUV, but it's not - it's a Lincoln Town Car - and so it just looked silly.  And crappy.  And sort of embarrassing.

So I drove over to the car wash near my house - the kind you drive through and it washes the car for you, because that's all I had time for before meeting my client before the court hearing.

Everyone else in the neighborhood apparently had the same idea, because the cars were lined up out the driveway of the car wash place and halfway up the street!  No way I had time to wait in that line.

I thought of another automatic car wash place, not too far out of the way, and drove there.  Same thing - line around the building and out into the street.  Ugh!  Passed another one on the way to the freeway -- same thing -- huge line!

I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to drive around with my car looking like a muddy mess, and I drove toward the Courthouse.  I stopped at the traffic light just before the parking lot for the Court building and I sat there berating myself, "Dang, I wish I could have washed my car.  I hate that all the car washes were so full this morning.  I should have done it yesterday evening...  I hope my client doesn't see this mess..."

And then I noticed it.  A car wash!  Right across the street from the Court building!  A drive-through one!  With only one car waiting to enter!

I pulled in, paid my $7, drove into the car wash with my ugly brown muddy mess of a car, and emerged from the other side in my beautiful gleaming silver Lincoln Town Car...  oh, happy day!  Suddenly everything felt brighter, lighter, and more wonderful!

I'm still not sure if all my wishing made the car wash magically appear, as if in a dream, or if it's been there all along and I just never noticed it.  Either way, it felt like a gift from heaven!

Sometimes I'm just not that bright...

I picked up my car at the shop after hours on Friday, after having some minor repairs done.  They had locked the keys in it, and left them under the mat for me.  It was dark and I didn't find the keys easily, so I used my spare set to drive it home, leaving the keys under the mat, temporarily.

Got home, parked, opened the car door, gathered my things, hit the "door lock" button on the door of the car, shut the door, went inside the house...  Remembered the spare set of keys under the mat as I walked into the house, but  I was tired, so I figured I'd just get them next time I went out.

Saturday, I needed to go to the store, but I couldn't find my keys.  I looked everywhere for them, without success.  Finally, in desperation, I called AAA - I figured they could unlock the car and open it, and then I could get the spare set from under the mat, and I'd just find the regular set later when I had more time to search.

AAA arrived very quickly (fewer than 10 minutes!), and the man used his "breaking into cars" tool and opened the door in about 15 seconds flat.

(I must say, I'm not encouraged about my chances if a car thief decides he wants my car... !)

So I opened the car door and what did I find?  Both sets of keys under the mat.  I guess I must have put the regular set under the mat instead of getting the spare set out from under it when I parked Friday night.  And no, I had *not* been drinking!

I don't know what I was thinking with that one...  Sometimes, I'm just not that bright...

Dumb Stuff I've Done

Did I ever tell you about the time I got a speeding ticket, then signed up for the "diversion program" driving class to take care of the ticket, and then got into an accident on the way to the driving class?

Yeah, I did that. Really.

(Can you spell "E-M-B-A-R-R-A-S-S-I-N-G"??)

The police officer who showed up to take the accident report asked where I was going at the time of the accident. He rolled his eyes and laughed at my (truthful) answer. Ouch. Not going so well, here...

But in the end he did agree the accident wasn't really my fault, and so he did not give me another ticket. (I'm persuasive when I need to be. It's part of what makes me a good lawyer).

When I arrived at the class, one of the other students asked, loudly enough for everyone else to hear, "Wait! Didn't I see you outside? Weren't you the one who was in that accident I passed on the way in here?!?")

(Can you spell "A-S-S-H-O-L-E"??)

So I replied, "Yeah, well, I'm here to learn to drive better, but I bet you'll always be an ass."

. . . . . . .

(OK, no, I didn't really say that. I just wish I had. But the rest is true ... )

Because Nothing Says Class Like a Plaid Cadillac

After I left the firm, I worked for a long while at the court. My job was to read the parties' papers, review the record, do legal research, and draft decisions for the judges.

One of the cases I worked on involved a criminal defendant who had been arrested and charged with various crimes related to the fact that he was a pimp. Not only was he a pimp, but he was pimping 14 year old girls. So the crimes he was charged with included things like "sexual exploitation of a minor" and "child abuse" and "kidnapping." He was a pretty awful guy.

His defense? The usual SODDI defense (pronounced like "soddy" and stands for "Some Other Dude Did It"), pled by criminals who have no other defense.

One of his "ho's," a young teen, testified that he was her pimp. She testified that he convinced her to try whoring as a way to make some money, then kept her locked in an apartment (literally locked in, with a padlock on the outside of the door) and would not let her leave except when he wanted her to work. Then, he would drive her to Van Buren street and drop her off. He had threatened that if she tried to leave, he would kill her father. He gave her rides, she said, in his plaid Cadillac.

What? I thought.

I re-read it. Yes, I read it correctly. His plaid Cadillac.

Wonder what that looks like? I thought.

Well, I was in luck. Almost immediately after that, the prosecutor had the witness identify a photo of the defendant with his plaid Cadillac and had it admitted into evidence as Exhibit A. So of course I immediately went to the box containing all the trial records and rummaged around until I found Exhibit A.

Sure enough, Exhibit A was a photo* of a huge, late 1980's model blue, beige, and cream colored plaid Cadillac, with defendant standing in front of it wearing a blue pimp hat (yes, with a feather), a zoot suit, lots of bling, and blue suede shoes, and throwing gang signs and scowling (to look "tough," I suppose).

No lie. The outfit literally screamed "I am a pimp." (I'm not sure exactly what the car was trying to say....).

So much for his SODDI defense. I'm quite sure there is no other plaid Cadillac in all of the Phoenix metropolitan area.

Although apparently last year, the U.S. Marshals seized this equally hideous pink and purple plaid limo. There's no photo of a pimp in this one, though, so I'm not all that impressed!

----------

* I sure wish I had kept a color copy of that photo. You guys would have enjoyed it!

Out of the Mouths of Babes...

For today, I'm going to share a kid story from long ago, when my daughter was about 4.

One day as I was driving and put on my turn signal, we had a conversation that went something like this:

Daughter: Mommy, what's that arrow that lights up?

Me: That blinking light? That's the turn signal.

Daughter: What does it do?

Me: Well, you put it on when you want to make a turn, and there are lights outside the car that blink and let the other drivers know you are going to turn and that way they know to slow down and not crash into you. The light inside just reminds me that I have the turn signal on.

Daughter: Oh. ... How come Daddy doesn't have those on his car?


* * *

You can learn a lot by listening to young children.

My Car Company Is Bankrupt

In the news this morning: Chrysler is in bankruptcy.

I'm so glad I bought a new Chrysler last year.... obviously a brilliant decision!

I hope the bankruptcy reorganization is successful. Apparently Fiat is working on a deal to take over a partial ownership and inject some of its expertise in making more fuel-efficient cars. This could be a good thing. There is even talk of resurrecting the Alfa Romeo in the American market. I loved those cars when I was a kid; would love to see them rolling off the production lines here.

There will be tough choices to be made, and everyone involved is likely to lose out on something, from retirees to current factory workers, dealers, and salespersons, to equity holders and secured and unsecured creditors. I just hope they can work a deal that is acceptable to enough of the stakeholders to get through the Court system. I will be pretty distressed if my car company (along with my 10 year bumper to bumper warranty) vanishes.

I really like the Chrysler cars. They are distinctive, not just your same old boring sedans that are indistinguishable from each other until you see the logo. Can you tell a Honda from a Toyota at a distance? I thought not. But you know what a PT Cruiser looks like from across the parking lot, right?

And I do like my 300. It is fun to drive, comfortable to ride in, and pretty to look at. Gas mileage isn't the best, though. I sometimes miss my Toyota when I fill the tank. And it's not just Chrysler's large cars that were fuel-inefficient. The Sebring and PT Cruiser did not get substantially higher EPA mileage ratings than the 300, despite being substantially smaller. I'd love to see a Fiat / Chrysler merger - Fiat makes some nice-looking cars, too. Perhaps some smaller and more fuel efficient, but still stylish cars will be forthcoming.

Let's all hope for the best, both (selfishly) for my desires to keep my warranty and to continue seeing distinctive cars on the road and (more altruistically) because I hope that all the employees of Chrysler and its suppliers will not end up losing their jobs and pensions.

And if you get a chance to buy a new Chrysler at a good price, go for it, please. They're going to need the votes of confidence - and the dollars to finance their post-bankruptcy payment plan. Even if the reorganization plan is successful on paper and gets through the bankruptcy court, it won't work if people don't buy the cars.

For the record, my Chrysler runs well and seems (so far at least) to be well put-together. There are no rattles or loose panels or random noises. Just a smooth purring engine when I drive. I'd buy another Chrysler, down the road, if it's an option... I hope it will be an option...

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It's All My Fault. I Never Should Have Used That Turn Signal...

I was driving home from a spring training baseball game the other day and needed to get into the left lane so I could turn left at the next light. There was quite a bit of space between the cars in the left lane, so I put on my blinker, as all good citizens are taught to do in driver's ed.

(I'm not sure why they teach that. It generally causes the opposite of the intended response. And in this case it caused a chain-reaction of events that will lead, directly if not immediately, to my receiving a speeding ticket sometime in the future. It was a bad plan, really.)

Predictably, the fellow who was driving the car I intended to be in front of didn't want me there, so he sped up, as folks often do in response to a blinker on the car in the lane next to them, looking to "close the gap" so there wouldn't be one more car in front of him at the light.

There was a line of cars behind him, all packed pretty close together. I either had to get in the lane in front of him, or I would miss my turn at the light by the time the line of cars passed me.

I took another quick look in my mirror, calculating the odds that he would actually hit me if I went ahead and cut in front of him, despite his obvious opposition to the idea. Since his car was both much nicer (Mercedes sports car) and much smaller than mine, I figured the odds were about 100,000 to 1. So I sped up a little and got in front of him.

But then I remembered the photo radar camera that was approximately 1/10 of a mile ahead. So I slowed down to go the speed limit.

I sympathize with the guy behind me, I really do. I absolutely hate it when people pull in front of me and then slow down.

Then again, we were approaching the traffic light, which was red, so slowing down a bit was actually a pretty good plan. Not to mention the photo radar.

But the fellow behind me was determined to be in front of me at the light, so he hit the accelerator, passed me quickly on the right, cut back in front of me while, for some unknown reason, showing me his middle finger (apparently he was proud of it?), and kept speeding on down the road.... and *flash*!!!

(Did you see it coming?) He got a photo radar ticket. He hit the brakes, but it was too late to avoid the ticket.

Just in time to stop for the (still) red light, though.

One could say that it was Karma theory in action. The Universe was exacting its retribution for his unnecessarily aggressive driving maneuver. Or one could say he got what he deserved.

Either way, I found it terribly amusing that he sped up to at least 55 miles per hour in the 40 mph zone just to pass me so he could slam on his brakes and wait at the red light... and get a photo radar speeding ticket in the interim .... possibly while still showing his (above-average looking?) middle finger to the world.

So I laughed heartily. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

* * *

I have come to realize that was a major error in judgment. Under that same Karma theory, surely, someday soon, I too will get a photo radar speeding ticket....

Will I never learn?

.

I'm Just Full of Surprises

Can you stand another car story? If not, you may want to skip this one. If so, then read on:

In light of my third "confession" in this post (that I love to drive fast like a NASCAR driver and I'm obnoxious about it, besides), you might find it surprising that, on my seventeenth birthday, I actually received a ticket for -- get this -- driving too slowly! Can you believe they even allow police officers to ticket teens for driving "too slowly"!?! You would think they would award medals for that kind of thing instead.

As you might surmise, it wasn't really a ticket for driving too slowly, although that's what the checked box on the form said. But that was just the officer's euphemism for "she flipped me off and was a smart-alec besides, so I'm going to make her pay for that," because there was no box to check for that particular offense.

Here is what happened:

I was driving my dad's fiancee's car* (a 1972 Mustang) one very rainy night on an unlit, somewhat remote, curvy, hilly, narrow, very bumpy and very puddly gravel road** through the woods in Northern Virginia.*** The car was sliding around each curve, and I was a little afraid I would run off the road and into the ditch, particularly at the bottom of the hill where the one-lane bridge crossed the creek, when a car came hurrying up behind me with its bright lights on, shining directly in my rearview mirror.

The Mustang did not have one of those day / night mirrors. I could barely see the road in front of me before this other car arrived on the scene, and now the lights reflecting in my mirror were pretty much blinding me.

I tried speeding up a little to put more distance between us. It didn't work; he stayed right on my tail.

I slowed way down and drove as close as I could to the side of the road, hoping he'd pass me. He did not.

I stopped, hoping he would go on around me and leave. He stopped behind me and waited.

I opened my window and waved for him to pass me. Still, he waited behind me.

I got scared and drove quickly away, then slowed to a speed that would ensure I did not run off the road. The last thing I needed was to be in a car wreck deep in the woods with this maniac stalker right behind me. (If I had seen the movie "Deliverance" before that incident, I would have been humming that tune from the dueling banjos scene while I drove.****) The stalker followed, close behind, those bright lights still blazing away in my rearview mirror.

In an effort to appear brave instead of scared out of my wits by this nut job, I flipped him off. He flipped on the blue and red lights and the siren and pulled me over.
. . . . .

The officer swaggered up to the window and asked for my license and registration. As I dug them up, he directed his flashlight's beam into the car and, so far as he could without knocking off his Stetson, poked his head into the open window and had a good look around.

He noticed that the horn was not attached to the steering wheel (it had an unfortunate habit of falling off every time the car went over a bump.)

"Whar's yer horn?" he asked.

"In the back seat," I replied.

"Why?"

"Well, sir, it falls off whenever I hit a bump, and this is sort of a bumpy road, don't you think? It seemed a little silly to keep reattaching it on this road, so I tossed it in the back seat to get it out of my lap. I figured I'd put it back on later, when I got to the pavement. Do you want me to reattach it right now? I'm just a wee bit afraid it might fall right off again, though." (Sadly, my tone was a "wee bit" sarcastic throughout this long-winded explanation. He didn't interrupt me, though, or tell me to stop being sarcastic ... just gave me more rope to hang myself with....)

"Well now, that horn's not doin' ya' much good in the back seat, now is it?"

"Well, no sir. But I haven't really needed it tonight anyway. All the bad drivers have been behind me." (Oh sh** I shouldn't have said that.... why can't I keep my fool mouth shut?!?)

"That so, eh? You wait here, missy." He swaggered back toward his red and blue blinking cruiser.

An eternity and a half later, he appeared at my window and, mimicking my sarcastic tone, said, "Happy Birthday, LegalMist," while handing me a ticket for "driving too slowly" and "failure to maintain proper equipment on the vehicle."

(If you want to know what this cruel man looks like, just go to the dictionary and look up the word "jerk." His picture is right there next to the definition. I think they've even computer age-progressed it. And, um, no... no, I haven't held a grudge for over 20 years or anything stupid like that.... ahem...)

I was young and foolish and too scared to tell anyone I had flipped off a police officer and then had been sarcastic besides, or why I had felt so provoked, so I just paid the ticket and didn't tell anyone the story behind it. My dad's fiancee was very kind and paid the fine for the "equipment" portion of the ticket, saying she should have had that horn fixed before. When I told my Dad about the "back story" years later, he laughed and said he always knew there had to be more to that ticket than I had let on, since he had never known me to drove "too slowly."

I learned two valuable lessons that day: I never flip the bird at anyone when I drive, no matter how annoying they are. And I am never sarcastic with police officers, even when they deserve it.
---
* It was a bright red 1972 Mustang fastback; this was before I got my awesome 1965 'Stang) My soon-to-be stepmom was a very cool lady to let me borrow her beloved 'Stang.

** I tried to think of more adjectives to describe this road but I think I used them all already. Please do not have me arrested for "adjective abuse." Thank you.

*** Ironically, the road was named "Lawyers Road"; it has since been paved and widened and is now in the middle of the suburban sprawl. You can tell I am a lawyer because I have three footnotes in one sentence, and all three contain irrelevant matter that I find fascinating but which may be of no interest at all to others.

**** For your viewing pleasure, here is the aforementioned "dueling banjos" scene:



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New Car Adventures, or, Don't Forget To Eat Your Black Eyed Peas For New Year's (Reprise)

I told you previously about buying my first-ever brand new car, Lady Too. Today I'd like to tell you about my adventures in 2008 with Lady Too, in an effort to save you from the terrible mistake I made.

And no, the mistake was not in buying the car. The Chrysler 300 is a very nice car.

My mistake was that, tragically, last New Year’s Day, I forgot to eat my black eyed peas to ensure luck and prosperity. It is now clear to me that I must never forget this important task again. I remembered and ate them on January 2, 2008, but that was obviously too late to prevent all of the bad luck in 2008.

To refresh your memories: On January 13, 2008, I purchased my very first new car ever, a shiny brand-new Chrysler 300, promptly named Lady Too.

On January 21, 2008, Lady Too was stolen. That’s right, folks, stolen! She was parked directly in front of my house when I went to bed that night, but when we awoke on January 22, she was gone. Vanished. Just an empty spot where my car had been. Can you imagine?

So much for the alarm system that not only was supposed to make noise and alert me if someone broke into the car, but also was supposed to keep the engine from starting. Impressive thieves, I guess, although I don't remember being impressed so much as annoyed and very sad when I first discovered their talent on that January morning.

I went through the whole grief routine: denial (looked out the window 38 times just to confirm she was really gone), anger ("Those horrible awful terrible f-ing no-good crooks!!!"); bargaining ("please please please let my car come back -- I'll never drive like a maniac again, really!"); despair ("Now what will I do? I just bought that car! I can't afford to go buy another one! There probably isn't another white 2007 with a sun roof in town anyway...."); resignation/acceptance ("I guess it could be worse; at least they didn't break into the house and hurt my kids; my insurance will cover it; it will be ok eventually..."). Ack, how melodramatic could I be, anyway?

Those thieves must have eaten their black-eyed peas on New Year's Day, though. In looking for the registration papers to provide to the police, I soon realized that I had accidentally left them, along with the spare key, in the glove box, in the little pouch that came with the owner's manual. I had brought the manual in its little pouch with me on my errands the previous day so that I could check what kind of gas to buy when I filled the tank for the first time. I still don't know how the thieves got into the car to begin with -- it was locked and the alarm was set -- but they had to be pretty darned happy when they discovered that they would not need to hot wire it because some fool had left the key in the glove box of this new car with fewer than 300 miles on it. And even happier when they discovered a full tank of gas!

So now they had the car and the key and the registration papers -- not to mention the full tank of gas -- and I knew I would never see Lady Too again.

And – even more bad luck for me – I had just given away my little green Lady on January 20, so now I was without any car at all. I couldn't exactly call up my friend and say "Hey my new car got stolen, can I have the old one back?" since he had just spent several hundred dollars for new tires and brakes. It just didn't seem right somehow....

On the bright side, my kids and I have bikes so they had no excuse to miss school. And my insurance company provided a rental car for me the next day, so I wasn't without transportation for long.

My emergency black-eyed pea consumption on January 2 must have paid off at least a little because -- amazing things do happen! -- after a couple of weeks the police found Lady Too. The thieves had simply driven her until she ran out of gas and then abandoned her on a freeway entrance ramp. Too bad I hadn't procrastinated that gas purchase a day longer.

The police took a week or so to "process" the vehicle – dusted it for prints and looked for other evidence, I guess. So a few weeks after she was stolen, Lady Too was returned to me.

Even more amazing was the fact that the hoodlums who stole my Lady Too didn’t wreck her or tear her apart at a chop shop. They didn't spill anything inside or shred the leather seats or rip out the stereo. Heck, they didn’t even re-program my radio stations, although they did manually change the setting to a different station. And when they abandoned her, they left the key in the ignition. There were just a couple of scratches on the bumper, my kids' booster seats and a few other little things were missing, and there was a footprint on the ceiling liner, but overall, Lady Too was only slightly the worse for her adventures.

So avoid it if you can, of course, but if you absolutely must have your car stolen, I highly recommend having it stolen by these apparently professional and reasonably courteous thieves.

My insurance covered the cleaning and touch-up paint, and a mechanical inspection showed there was no damage to the engine. By the end of February, I was driving Lady Too again. I was thrilled! I was amazed! I was a little shocked, too, really, since I had not expected to see her ever again. In any event, I figured my luck was changing, and the emergency January 2 black-eyed peas had done their job.

But then, on the way home from returning the rental car, some idiot who failed to look before quickly changing lanes nearly side-swiped my husband's car. My husband swerved to avoid the other car and dented his rim on the curb. A costly repair. Ok, that happens sometimes, I thought. It's not about the peas.

And then a few weeks later, while driving Lady Too on the freeway, a rock hit the windshield and I had to have it replaced. Ok, that happens sometimes, I thought. We can't blame that on the peas, can we?

And then the price of gas skyrocketed to $4.00-plus per gallon, causing me to seriously question the wisdom of trading in my green Lady (which got 27 mpg on average) for Lady Too (which gets 20 mpg on a good day). What was I thinking? Still, though, this just *couldn't* be about those darn peas, could it? Surely I can blame this on George Bush instead, right?

And then while I was out of town for a week or so over the summer and the car was parked in front of my house, someone hit the back passenger side bumper and damaged the bumper and taillight, requiring another repair. Aaaaagghh! I had to admit it. I just should have eaten those darn peas!

And then one day I took my daughter to her piano lesson, and when we got in the car to leave at 6:15 p.m., the transmission would not move from "Park" to "Drive." It’s under warranty, so I called the dealer's repair shop, but it was closed already. I called AAA and waited for the tow truck driver to tow us home. He said this is a common occurrence with 300's. There is some weak link in the transmission which they fix and then there is no problem after that. (If they know this is a problem, why don’t they fix them before they sell them?!?) Meanwhile, he had to crawl under the car and disconnect something in the drive shaft so he could pull the car up onto the back of the tow truck, quite a lengthy process. The dealer picked up the car the next day and fixed it for free, so that wasn’t too bad, in the end.... still though.... those peas were haunting me.

And then on Halloween, some hoodlums hit my windshield with a rock or bat or something and shattered it and dented the frame around the windshield, so I had to have the windshield replaced and the frame repaired. Aaargghh... the peas....

And then Chrysler announced huge financial and labor difficulties, leading to speculation that it might not exist a whole lot longer. So much for my 10 year bumper-to-bumper warranty.... and all for the lack of a few black eyed peas!

And then, thankfully, 2009 dawned, and I remembered to eat my black eyed peas first thing on New Year’s Day.

And then on January 4, I received a notice in the mail: They caught the evil hoodlum who stole my car last year. I have to say I’m amazed. I had assumed that would never happen.

And gas is down to $1.50 per gallon.

And Chrysler might survive at least a few more years to honor my warranty.

Perhaps this year Lady Too will suffer no further damages, and Chrysler will recover from its economic difficulties, and gas will stay in the $1-$2 range, and I will happily drive my beautiful, fully repaired, no-longer-new Lady Too.

Life is glorious again! I ate my black eyed peas this year!
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Buying My First New Car ("Lady Too")

I told you last time about my little green car, Lady, and my need to replace her.

I researched the replacement possibilities. I wanted a brand new car this time, one with a good size engine, that handles well and looks nice, but not unnecessarily expensive. No Beemers or Lexuses ("Lexi"?) for this gal - I wanted a car, not an income statement.

I considered a newer model Toyota Corolla, but I just couldn’t get excited about it. I looked at the Honda Accord and Civic, Nissan Sentras, and lots of other makes and models of standard four-door sedans. My husband suggested the Chrysler 300. It was bigger than I wanted, but the Chrysler Sebring four-door looked about right, so off we went to the Chrysler dealership.

I drove the Sebring. It is a cute car and it handled well, and the engine was strong, but it felt cramped inside; it wasn’t even as roomy as my smaller Corolla. The salesman -- and my husband -- talked me into "just trying" the Chrysler 300.

I fell in love with the 300 when I drove it. It handles well for a big car. With the V6 engine, it has good "pick up" (and it actually gets the same gas mileage as the 4 cylinder model -- why would anyone even consider the 4 cylinder?!?). It is spacious and comfortable. For a larger car, it has good visibility all around the vehicle. It has a huge trunk for hauling all things kid-related (sports equipment, groceries, band instruments, girl scout cookies...). The one I drove had a sun roof. And it looks pretty cool, too. Part classy mom-car, part gangster-mobile, depending on your angle and mood. (I looked for a solid link for you guys, but all I could find were links to ones for sale, which may or may not be there by the time anyone clicks, so you'll just have to run the Google search for yourself if you don't know, and want to know, what this car looks like.)

The dealership had a few 2007 models still on the lot that they were willing to sell for far less than sticker price (since they were well into the 2008 model year and would be getting the 2009's in before long....). So I got a great deal on a brand new car. I settled on the one in "Cool Vanilla" with a sunroof and only 19 miles on the odometer -- 10 of which I put there on the test drive. And so on January 13, 2008, I bought my first-ever brand new car.

When we went to pick her up, my kids whined the whole way there about how they would miss "Lady" and they couldn’t believe I was really going to get rid of her. I explained I would be giving her to a family friend who had no car, and he would drive her and love her as much as they did. They were somewhat happier knowing that outcome, but still not thrilled.

Then they saw the shiny new "300" and they rode in the very spacious and comfortable back seat with its smooth cool leather seats, the fold-down arm rest / drink holder, and the separate ac/heat vents just for them. They experienced the joy of the sun roof. They immediately got over my little green "Lady." My little girl admitted that "Cool Vanilla" was a pretty good color for a car, even if it wasn't green. My little boy said he loved the new car and she would henceforth be known as "Lady." I call her "Lady Too."

I still miss my little green "Lady" sometimes, but my kids have never mentioned her again.

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My Little Green Lady

Previously, I told you all about my first car, my awesome 'Stang.

Today I want to tell you about my 1997 green Toyota Corolla. My little green Toyota was an excellent car – although not as awesome as the 'Stang. She got good gas mileage (27 mpg). She handled very well. She started every morning and took me everywhere I needed to go without ever breaking down. Well, almost every morning, because of course she was not immune from the usual problems that cars have here in Arizona – she would refuse to start once every couple of years or so and I would buy a new battery and then all would be well again. She got a flat tire a few times. Twice in one week, actually, but it wasn’t really her fault. There was just way too much construction debris between my home and my office for a while there. She was, overall, a very reliable car. I didn't drive her just for the sake of driving, the way I had with my 'Stang, but that was probably a good thing. Better for the environment, anyway.

My kids loved that car. She was the only car they had known me to own. I bought her when my daughter was 3 months old and the car was 1 year old with about 25,000 miles on it. At the time, it was the closest I had ever come to owning a "new" car. My little boy named her "Lady." My little girl’s favorite color was green.

But Lady’s paint had become faded, mottled, and chipped – not very impressive when meeting clients of the new law firm I had opened, so if I were to keep her, I’d have to paint her. She needed new tires (immediately) and new brakes (within a few months), and she was due for the "big service" (the scheduled preventative maintenance package that costs about $500 where they replace not only the oil and filters, but also all the hoses, belts, etc). The driver’s side sun visor was shredding, dropping little pieces of foam all over my lap every time I drove the car. I couldn't just remove it, as a sun visor is a necessary piece of equipment here in Arizona. A new one would cost $175 (highway robbery!), and I had been unable to find one in good shape at a junkyard. The air conditioning still worked, but not as well as it should – it would need some work, too, if I were to be able to drive to court wearing my lawyer suit in the summer. And her blue book value was just over $1000.

In short, Lady needed much more in maintenance and minor repairs than she was worth, money-wise. She was also old for a car (11 years old, with well over 100,000 miles on her) and therefore possibly due to start having engine problems. It was just time for a new car.

So last January 1 (2008), I announced my intention to get a new car. My kids were, shall we say, less than thrilled with Mommy's idea. "NO!" they cried. My little boy kept repeating that I couldn’t possibly sell "Lady"! My little girl flatly declared that I could only even consider buying a new car if it was also green. Both kids were close to tears at the prospect of not riding in Lady ever again. Both kids embarked on a ceaseless campaign to change my mind. ("But it's Lady!" "You can't sell Lady!" "I don't want to ride in a new car, I want Lady!!") Holy cow, you'd think I was taking away their toys, or their dog!

I have to admit I was a little sad, too, to give up my reliable little green Lady. But I was determined to get a new car. Next time, I'll tell you about the search for her replacement.

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The Good Luck Mobile

Fancy Schmancy's post from yesterday reminded me of this story, I guess because her car's "symptoms" seem similar to what I experienced. I am hoping her car story will have a happy ending, too, and not just be a cash drain the week before Christmas.

Way back in the dark ages, when my husband and I were still "just dating," we took a vacation to San Francisco. We drove up the Pacific Coast Highway in my husband's Suzuki SJ-410. It was a tiny Japanese-made jeep-like car with a lawn mower size engine, that was the precursor to the Samurai. (Remember those? They were famous for rolling over in the '80's.)

Near Coachella, California, there is an area where the average wind velocity is 40 mph. In the '70's, they erected lots of wind turbines there, to harness the wind energy. There are thousands of them, in little rows on the hills surrounding this one town.




Something about the rows and rows of those huge, slow-moving and mesmerizing mechanical things always reminds me of the marching hammers in Pink Floyd's movie, "The Wall." (See the below video, starting at about 1:30).





Of course, the wind turbines are not scary like the hammers. (Unless you're a bird. Apparently a fair number of birds are killed each year by these wind turbines). I do not feel the abject terror that those hammers induced in the movie. It is just something about the mechanical relentlessness of the turbines that reminds me of those relentlessly forward-marching hammers.

Anyway, as we drove through this area, the SJ-410's engine was really straining. The wind blows in an Easterly direction, and we were driving West on the freeway. Even with the gas pedal floored, the car would not go above 40 mph. Although this was frustrating, it made sense and we weren't too worried about it because the top speed on the speedometer was about 80 mph, and we were facing at least a 40 mph headwind. Many people communicated with us by honking and waving and showing us their middle fingers. I think this is some sort of friendly driver code for "it would be ok with me if you drove a little faster." Or maybe it meant "Get off the road with that stupid lawn mower you f-ing idiots!" One of those.

Many hours later we stopped in a small town about an hour south of SF for gas. After filling the tank, the car would not start. Hmmmm. Strange. Let's try that again....

Still won't start. Very strange..... Again? No. Again? No. Again? .... you get the idea. (What is it that makes us think that after we have tried 38 times to start the car, it will actually start on the 39th try?)

People were starting to communicate with us again -- something like, "it would be ok with us if you moved your car away from the gas tank so we could get in there." Or maybe it was "Move that stupid lawn mower you f-ing idiots!" One of those.

We pushed the car across the street to the service station (the gas station we had stopped at did not have mechanic service), where we ultimately were told that the alternator was dead.

Normally this would not be a problem; they could simply replace the alternator. But I'd like you to remember what kind of car this was. An SJ-410. Have you ever heard of that? Of course you haven't. Well, maybe some of you who live overseas have, but those of you who live here in the US most certainly have not. They were not manufactured for sale in this country. My husband had bought it used from the Suzuki/Jeep dealer, who had taken it in trade from someone who had brought it back with him when he came home after military service.

The mechanic said he had called the manufacturer, and they could ship us a new alternator from Japan, which would cost something like $500 (plus labor for installation) and would take two weeks to arrive. Or he could charge the battery for us, and we could hope we had enough "juice" to make it to SF, where perhaps another service station might maybe have one in stock or be able to obtain one faster, or where we could perhaps buy a real car instead of continuing to drive a lawn mower. Not having two weeks to hang out in a podunk town in California, we took option "B."

They charged the battery for an hour, and we drove North toward SF. 45 minutes later, as we approached SF, it was getting dark and, as often happens in SF, it began to rain. We had no lights and no windshield wipers, and the car was starting to sputter and die, so the freeway began to seem like a bad idea. We pulled off at an exit ramp about 3 miles from our hotel. The car died at the bottom of the exit ramp. Oy!

Across the street was a AAA truck jump-starting another car that had died on the frontage road. Being a AAA member, I walked across and, after much arguing with the man that we should not have to walk 2 miles to a pay phone (this was before cell phones were ubiquitous) and then wait 2 hours for it to be "our turn" for a AAA truck, when he was only approximately 100 feet from my car right now, I convinced the man to drive across the street and jump-start my car, too.

We drove another couple of miles or so, then the car died at a stop light as we waited to turn left. We pushed it on around the corner and into a parking space in front of a large building. We walked the remaining half mile or so to our hotel, pulling our luggage in the light rain, checked in, had some dinner and drinks, and went to bed.

The next day, we returned to the car in the morning to try to figure out what to do about it. We figured we'd try to start it another 38 times or so, then call AAA again. Well, it turned out that it was parked right in front of the AAA of California headquarters building. Woo hoo! Things were looking up already.

We walked inside and explained our dead car dilemma, they had it towed to a nearby service station, and the mechanics there said they could rebuild the alternator for us for about $150 in about 5 days – exactly the amount of time we were planning to be in SF. Given that parking at the hotel was $25 per day, and we wouldn't have to pay that for the 5 days, we figured it was not a bad deal at all.

I consider this my luckiest car-breakdown story ever. We didn't have to worry about the car at the hotel, and we paid about the same to fix the car as we would have paid to park it for 5 days. We certainly did not need the car in SF with its fantastic mass-transit system and pedestrian-friendly tourist areas. We had a blast in SF for 5 days. The mechanics were true to their word and had the car ready for us when it was time to check out of our hotel for the drive home. And they did a good job. My husband had the car for several years after that, and never had another trouble with that alternator.

Fancy Schmancy, I hope your car troubles will melt away as easily as mine did that charmed week in SF.

My 'Stang, 1982-1998, RIP

I bought my very first car in the late fall of 1982. I bought it from my step-mom's brother-in-law, who had a business restoring and selling Ford Mustangs. It was a 1965 Mustang 2-door sedan, royal blue with a white vinyl top and a black interior, and a completely rebuilt, good-as-new, shiny blue and black 289 V-8 engine.

It was fun to drive. Great pick up and power, and it had those awesome "butterfly windows" -- the little triangle ones in the front corner of the door that you could angle in so the wind blew right on your face while you drove... sheer bliss! It had no power steering, so parking in tight quarters could sometimes be tough -- a fact that merely increased my "street cred" with anyone who ever drove my car. Truth be told, that car had much more engine power than any teenage driver should have -- I drove it too fast too much of the time, and ended up with too many speeding tickets and lost my car insurance, which (happily) didn't prevent me from being hired for the best job ever: driving buses at the University (see this post).

I proudly drove my car to school. I happily drove it to the grocery to do the family shopping. I volunteered to drive anytime my step-siblings or friends or acquaintances needed a ride anywhere at all. I drove it to my second job (my first job, with which I earned most of the money to purchase the car, was delivering newspapers on foot in my neighborhood), and I got my first speeding ticket on the way home the day I got fired from that job (another story, another day...). I drove it off to college -- second semester, anyway, when we were finally allowed to bring our cars to school -- and got another speeding ticket along the way. I drove it to my first Grateful Dead show (and thereafter covered it with Grateful Dead window stickers). I drove it back and forth to Alabama to visit my mom, windows open, singing loudly with the music blaring on the cheap aftermarket stereo I kept in the glove box (the car came standard with only an AM radio, can you imagine?), and nearly got a speeding ticket but slipped across the state line before the officer even got his car turned around, and he gave up (or gave me a gift by letting me go, one of those).

In short, I drove that car anywhere and everywhere, even when it would have been faster to walk or ride a bike, because I loved to drive that car. (Of course, that was back when they still sold gas with lead in it for less than $1 per gallon -- I remember being outraged in college when gas jumped up to the $1.20s). I guess it is politically incorrect to reminisce about such a polluting waste of gasoline these days, but wow it felt good at the time.

Sadly, just before I moved out west, I was in a wreck. No one was injured, and the accident was ruled "no fault" so my insurance rates did not increase, but the front of my beloved 'Stang was smashed, the hood would not close, and it needed substantial body work which would not be completed in time for the move, so I could not drive it out west. I was crushed. Thankfully, my good friend (a fellow student bus driver and car enthusiast who owned a 1950's Studebaker -- awesome car) volunteered to supervise the body-shop work, pick it up and inspect it when it was finished, keep the car for me until Christmas break, and drive it across the country for me. Good friends like that are hard to come by. If you have one, you should keep him around.

My car and I were reunited a few months later, in December 1988. My friend had brought other friends with him on the cross-country drive, and the three of them complained that it had been cold, the heat didn't work well, the seats were splitting at the seams, the car had no seatbelts in the back and only lap belts in the front, and they couldn't believe I didn't just dump it and buy a new one in Arizona. But a few tequila shots later, my friend was trying to buy the car from me so he could drive it home again, since that would be so much more fun than flying. "Ha!" I said, "the truth comes out! You love the car, too, don't you? Too bad it's not for sale."

I got a good deal on that car. It was fun to drive and fun to own and it ran, reliably, for many years. Well, it ran hot in the summer sometimes, and one time the radiator literally exploded on the way to a Grateful Dead show (bummer!), and of course I had my share of dead batteries, broken engine belts and hoses, tire replacements, and so forth, but for almost 15 years, I never had to invest in a major engine repair. Or a car payment, for that matter!

I was faithful about engine maintenance -- oil changes and such -- but I have to confess that, as time passed, the car did not look like the polished gems at the auto shows. Not even close. I was a not-wealthy high school student, then a starving college student, and then a moderately poor law student, so I did not have a lot of money to put into cosmetic issues on the car, and time took its toll. The car had been around since 1965, after all, and so by 1985 it was starting to look a little, well, worn. Even more so by 1995.

But even after the car started showing signs of wear -- faded paint, rust on the fenders, vinyl top peeling, Grateful Dead stickers torn and scratched -- it still would get envious looks from real car enthusiasts. In fact, I learned to tell the real car enthusiasts from the fakers by the comments they would make as I was filling up the tank. "Nice car!" said with a genuine smile meant the person could see beyond the cosmetics and appreciate the fine engine and "inner beauty" of my car. The exact same words said with a sneer (usually by someone driving the equivalent of a shiny new Yugo) meant the person had no clue.... Regardless, I always simply smiled and said, "Thanks. I like it too."

After almost 15 years (the car was 32 at the time), my 'Stang developed major engine trouble -- it needed transmission work and most days the fly wheel would not even align so that you could start it. That, coupled with the body work it needed, meant that it would take at least $4000 (perhaps as much as $10,000) to restore it to its former glory, and at least $1500 just to make it functional. And although I was now a lawyer, I was also paying off school loans and planning a (rather too expensive) wedding. Later, I was busy (and broke) starting a family and buying (rather too expensive) nursery furniture and baby equipment.

I had also purchased a second car when I started working as a lawyer, because the 'Stang lacked air conditioning -- a necessity if one is to wear a suit to work in the summer in Arizona. So I was no longer driving my 'Stang on a daily basis and did not really need to repair it. Other items always seemed to take priority and, even though I missed being able to drive my 'Stang, I could never seem to find the time or the cash to fix it up again.

So the car sat, unused, in my driveway, until the City began to hassle me for not having a registration sticker on the car. To get a registration sticker, one had to have insurance for the car. I couldn't justify spending money to insure a car that I couldn't drive and didn't plan to drive soon. But the City threatened fines and continuing hassles if I kept the vehicle in my driveway without registering it. So I had to let go of my beloved 'Stang and embrace my status as just another Honda owner. Oy, that hurt. (Not that I didn't love my Prelude, too, but that's a different story).

I still miss that car. If I am ever rich, I'll buy another one -- although maybe this time I'll get the convertible. But for now, the memory of driving that awesome machine on the open road, windows down and wind blowing through my hair, stereo blaring and singing at full volume, will have to be enough.

I'd love to hear your stories about your first car. Did you love it, or was it merely an old heap of a car that got you where you needed to go? If you had it to do over again, would you buy the same car, or a different one?

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