Monday, February 5, 2007

Superbowl Sunday

I took the car out one more time before the spring. I wanted to take it over to my parents house, so my Dad could see it. Dad has always wanted a 911, but he never made any serious attempts to buy one. I thought I would surprise him, so I did not tell him about the car.

On the way over, I started to get some heat out of the car - it was -5 F or so outside. I took the car down through the valley, since it was a toasty 0 F or maybe even + 5 F in the car. The valley is a massive public park in Cleveland that winds along several rivers. I have used it as my own private test track for years. One time I took my Chevy Beretta down there and was driving a bit too fast. The road took a sharp left corner, dipped down, crossed the river in a ford, then dipped up and into a sharp right corner. That Beretta crossed the river sideways in a skid. How I ever survived to be 40 I will never know. I have driven my old 924, my 1973 Chevy Impala, my Honda Civic, all of my cars on these roads at stupid rates of speed. I'm still sticking to the "no going over 4000 rpm until the engine warms up" rule. Unfortunately, the car never really warmed up. When the car is oil / air cooled, -5 F is a bit much to run around in. But it was still nice to tool along at a normal pace on the roads I used to daydream about running a 911 along. I'm just starting to get the handle of the car, so it was all for the best.

Dad was suitably surprised when I asked him to come outside. He did not have on a jacket, or socks, but ignored the cold and stayed outside for 15 minutes running all over the car. I took him around the block and, just for 1 gear, let the car run up to the red line. WHOOSH - I finally understood why I bought this thing. It was very nice, very fast. Dad's comment was "You are going to get yourself in trouble with this thing." It was said in a light laughing tone. When we got back to the house, he let me tuck it into his garage.

Mom took a look at it through the door, but said she would wait for spring before she takes a ride in it. We went in, had a great meal and watched the game together. When I got back to my home, the car was warmed up quite well and I thought that Duff had not had a chance to ride with me yet. I went in and got her. She came out, sat in the car and the headlights stopped working. I am sure that we just blew a fuse, but still . . . I think the car might not like her.

If this were true, I would have to make a very tough decision - should I sell the car? Or should I get a divorce?

Lets hope it doesn't come to that, shall we?

3 comments:

tabitharasa said...

Wellllll, the Porsche probably will cost less to maintain...

It's no big, honey. I just won't ride in it. Or touch it. Ever again. (But I don't think I can avoid looking in its direction; it *is* kinda parked next to the PT.) But it's your decision. (And divorce would let me off the hook for your biological clock...)

Ed said...

That was a joke, you know that, right?

duff said...

*snerk*