Hot Wheels

I am an unlikely Car Guy.

Most car guys are car guys at a very young age. Most start in high school. They would drive up in their Camaros. Or Firebirds. Or Chevelle SSs (how do you pluralize that?) My first car in high school was a 1966 Plymouth Valiant. With all the chest-bumping horsepower of a riding lawn mower.

A real babe catcher.

My little 4 door sedan with the vinyl top was not very kind too me. In fact, it scarred me in a way that might have permanently put me off cars. A harrowing experience that I can still retell minute by minute. 

I will spare you the details other than to say, I was driving with 4 guys in the car. We were no strangers to fast food, illicit weed and late night diners.  So we had some big boy heft in the Valiant.

As we were descending a steep hill on Route 59 in Spring Valley, NY, I decided to slow down and pumped gently on the brakes. The pedal did NOT pump back. As the hill got steeper, the car got faster. And my brake pedal pumping got more futile.

"Pull the emergency brake," said Bob.

"Throw the transmission into park," said Jim.

"Eject, eject," said Jamie.

Because I'm retelling the story, you already know we all survived. 

I managed, skillfully, to steer through some traffic (horn blaring) and start the ascent of an even steeper hill. We pushed the car to a nearby gas station where a surly mechanic (redundant) popped the hood, removed the clamp on the Master Cylinder (which pumps fluid to all 4 wheels to activate the brake shoes) wiped the bottom of the cylinder with his greasy finger and uttered...

"Bone, fucking dry."

Those words still ring through my head.

Unlike my high school brethren, I came to cars, women, and having a little money in my pocket, later in life.

To wit, see my new Mustang Mach E, pictured above. This is the first time I'm driving an actual Ford. As you may or may not know, old Henry Ford, was a virulent anti-semite. I don't think my father would be happy. Then again I wasn't too happy with the brake-challenged 66 Plymouth Valiant, so I guess we've evened up that score.

Besides, I crossed the Don't-Buy-Cars-From-Jew-Haters Rubicon years ago, when I parked my fat ass in the very Teutonic Audi S5, which I still love. 

And even before that when I pimped Jaguars, an unlikely division of the Premium Auto Group, a wholly owned subsidiary of the Ford Motor Company. 

You can see some of my Ford handiwork here: https://roundseventeen.blogspot.com/2010/06/1000000-boo-boo.html

As you might have guessed, I love my new Mustang. It's fast. It's fit. And it sits higher above the ground, so I don't emit old man sounds when getting in and out of it.

I also love that it's an EV (also a first for me), so I get to drive in the fast left lane reserved for HOV and Clean Vehicles. This will come in handy when traveling out to Palm Springs to manage the Mojo Dojo Desert Casa House, city ID #5634.

I still have to figure out the whole charging thing. 

If the car is plugged into my house, the toaster oven won't go on.

There's always something.