It is no secret that I am not exactly a baby. Chronologically speaking, smartie pants! I have always been able to drive any automobile planted on this fabulous planet of ours! I borrowed Skip's souped up Charger to do my practice teaching roughly 100 years ago. Never having a car of my own until I began teaching, I could handle Dad's Chevelle ('66) and Maverick ('70). My cousins taught me how do drive in a '68 Impala (too big, thanks) and a something of other Covair (yes, perfect size). I could handle my cousin's Gremlin that ran on 3 of 4 cylinders. I can't say that I was particularly skilled, but I could handle Steve's old, old, black Impala. Time passed...
In the Dark Ages, I signed a contract to teach in Wayne, New Jersey! At 11 A.M., Mr. Van Dyken, the principal, welcomed me aboard. At 1 P.M., that day, Dad and I were sitting in "Wayne Ford"...a dealership for my own car! YES!!! Grandpa Scillieri (aka, Ralph the Barber) had money for his grandchildren set aside. There was the deposit! My father lost his marbles because I was so anxious, I really wouldn't let him negotiate a good price. No worries!!! I had my very own, brand new, 0 miles on it, 1971 white with black vinyl roof Ford Pinto!!!!I was on fire!
In '72, Ann Banks ran a stop sign and in spite of major body surgery on my wheels, the passenger seat remained a little crooked. By the time my son was born during the Blizzard of '78, my Pinto was a little saggy. I held wires for the heater together with a cable stitch holder that I procured from my knitting supplies. But, she was still mine, all mine! The day that we sold it (or possibly paid some nice people to take it ), I crumpled up in the driveway and cried. Steve bought a Ford Fairmont station wagon for our new growing family. I could handle it, but I could have lived with or without it... (okay, hitchhiking with two little children would have been a chore). Next was a garbage can grey Audi. Within nine months, it went back to the dealership thirteen times. It was after that, Lemon Laws were invented. We began a string of Mercedes...no complaint. Ron negotiated a Malibu here in Ohio for me. Nick, my son, drives it now. I purchased a brand new Mazda 3 two years ago. Read about its fate in my blog, INTO THE WOODS, OVER THE RAINBOW BRIDGE. I began to think that I really didn't want to drive a motor vehicle again. My "ride" about which Steve often teases really keeps me out of trouble. But, riding a broomstick to St. Albert's is not realistic.
So, a few weeks ago, I gathered my nerve, in spite of the fact that I wanted a friend to do test driving for me at dealerships, and purchased a 2015 Chrysler 200. Here's the glitch... The whole contraption is loaded with buttons and dials. There is even a weird shaped button for the emergency brake. One can "remote" start, but to actually drive, press a button with a foot in a certain position on the brake pedal. On a console, that the Jetsons installed before Dave earned his commission, one will find: a dial for the radio, a dial for climate, a dial for gears, a dial to dial activation of dials! There is a snappy screen in the what would have been known as a dashboard in another century. Now that houses a back-up camera (now I see you Ms. Nosey with your dog), a GPS, touch screen in case you miss a dial for the same features mentioned. On the steering wheel, I can do everything including phone the White House...I know, I know...WHY?
Well, I tried to start the car and was rudely reminded by the gnome living inside of a dial to place my foot on the brake, press the correct control. I turned down the radio by activating air-conditioning (it was seven degrees outside at the time). I adjusted the "climate" by nearly throwing the thing into neutral. The radio blasted and took out 45% of my hearing when I tried to put the thing in "drive." I answered the phone by setting cruise control (which I never, ever would use, even if I aimed for it) and the wipers would up as blue tooth. I adjusted wipers by the mirror control! In other words...when I get into that car, I am a stranger in a strange dimension - just DIZZY DIAL SPINNING!
