It sounds like a hive of angry bees, but if you ever get stung by the car racing bug, chances are slim that you’ll entirely recover. Those were my thoughts earlier today while I sat watching the Formula 1 race cars whiz past at the Mazda Grand Prix of Portland. I was seated comfortably enough at an umbrella table next to the Oregon Brewer’s Festival satellite tent, sipping a plastic cup of Mac ‘n Jacks, and it seemed a most enjoyable way to spend an afternoon. My only regrets were that I was unable to get close enough for any good photos—and that I wasn’t out there on the track myself.
My husband Sam and I had decided to drive down for the day as soon as we saw the ad on page 31 of issue 2 of Forever MX-5 magazine (it was the first one we got—an oversight quickly remedied by an E-mail to Carzines). “All Hail the Gods of Thunder” it said, and since it’s just a two-and-a-half hour drive to Portland, we decided we had to attend—in our Miata MX-5, of course!
The Portland International Raceway is a large racing venue located a short distance off I-5 Southbound (take Exit 306B and you’re practically there), and it’s very easy to find. One feature I found especially handy is the pedestrian overpass to the infield, and there are large bleacher-type grandstands located at various spots around the track. Also convenient is the spectator parking and access to the Car Corral and competition race cars. You can get a nice close-up look and maybe even chat with one of the crew, an owner, or driver. One thing that soon became apparent though, is that it is impossible to get any good photos of the race cars in action, because you cannot get close enough to the track—unless you have a high-powered telephoto lens for your camera. My Nikon Coolpix 4300’s built-in lens was obviously not up to the job.
We arrived and parked in the shade under some trees right next to the Car Corral and walked over to take a look at all the glorious Miatas parked there. Mt. Hood Miata Club was out in force, and though we didn’t count how many were there, they were all gorgeous cars. Also noticeably in attendance was Forever MX-5 magazine. We were fortunate to meet David Russell, Activities Director of the Mt. Hood Miata Club, who showed us around and told us about all the cars. We also got an opportunity to talk briefly to Scott Fisher, Lifestyle Editor of Forever MX-5 magazine. The first car we saw in the Corral was The Survivor, a project car from Issue 2 (see pp. 54-67). Gosh, I had read all about this car, and it was as though I’d run into an old friend and a celebrity at the same time. I’d know that car anywhere! We saw Scott’s 1996 Brilliant Black Miata (a brother to my own, being also a 1996 Brilliant Black MX-5), there was a metallic red one with flames stenciled onto the hood, a sapphire-blue one that we were told had been rescued for $250 and restored. There were cars with various configurations of roll bars, and of course all different types of wheels, etc. What can I say? It was an excellent showing of the Club’s supporters, and I never fail to be amazed at how much we Miata folks adore our cars. We were even invited to join the Car Corral while we were there, though we declined, preferring to park in the shade for the day, since we were not part of their club nor there with our own.
As I mentioned earlier, the Oregon Brewer’s Festival had a satellite tent at the race. The Star Mazda Championship, presented by Goodyear, was there. Several Playboy bunnies were signing autographed pictures, since Playboy is the sponsor of the Mazda MX-5 Cup. Another feature was the Volkswagen TDI Cup, and there was Formula Drift competition sponsored by Circuit City. And as if this was not enough to interest you, there was Motocross, a Motathlon (sorry, I still don’t know what that is), Great American Stock Car racing, Drag racing, a Beaches Cruise-In, Time Attack, and live music at some point in time. Wow! We were sorry we had only come down for the day—and we would have stayed longer, but we had to get home for our dog.
The only thing marring the experience came from the fact that Mazda had to save the Grand Prix of Portland in literally the 12th hour. When Champ Car Racing pulled out, for whatever their reasons, everyone assumed that the Grand Prix would have to fold, because it was too late to find a sponsor. Well, Mazda stepped up to the plate and did their best, but unfortunately, the volunteer support base that is the heart of any such event was already gone. There was no printed program, but thanks to Mt. Hood Miata Club and the Oregon Chapter of the SCCA, we were able to find people around to direct us. There was also an issue of the Oregon SCCA magazine available with a program in it and an explanation of what the races were all about. We frankly were amazed that there were not more people in attendance—but the cars were certainly there! The Spec Miata field was 40 cars, and who knows how many lined up for Time Attack? It was scheduled from 5 to 10 pm. Sam and I have already decided we have to participate next year.
After doing autocross once and attending two major race events this year, I have to say I’m excited by the racing avenues open to us in the Northwest, whatever the interest. Whether you want to stick in your toe or go whole hog, there is a place for you, if you want to be part of it. If you don’t have a car or don’t want to drive, you can volunteer—we all need to do that, regardless. If you want to try racing your daily driver a few weekends a year, autocross is there for you. If you want more than that, there are driving schools and track days. If that’s not enough, you can get a license to do Time Attack or even put together a Spec Miata racer. Whatever your time, interest, or income level, you can do it. Come join us, won’t you? We were bitten by the bug!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Techno-Love Notes
Uh-oh, I think I've just fallen in love again. It's not my fault--well, I guess it really is. If I hadn't gotten that new water bottle from Starbucks because I was trying to reduce eco-waste from water bottles in the local landfill; if I hadn't put the water bottle in my bag instead of carrying it; if the thing hadn't spilled and put an inch of water in the bottom of my bag; if my iPod had not gotten wet and died . . . this would have never happened. Or at least it would not have happened for a while.
I was happy, or at least mostly happy with the iPod I've had for the last three years. It is a black 30 GB video iPod, and the only things that bothered me were that it could no longer store my entire iTunes library, and that I would get a little cross-eyed after watching a video TV show on it. Before this one got ruined, I was thinking about buying another one with more capacity and giving this one to my husband. I'd been looking at the 160 GB iPod Classic, but then I stumbled across the iPod Touch while perusing Amazon.com, and I thought, "Whoa Baby, you've come a long way since I last looked at you!"
I considered an iPod Touch when it first came out, since everyone was raving about it, but I dismissed it then because the capacity was so low that I couldn't see any point in investing in one. Now, however, you can buy one with 32 GB of capacity, and Internet access, and Wi-fi! That puts it in a different league entirely from the iPod I'm used to--not to mention the fact that it has a much larger screen, so I won't get cross-eyed anymore. I can preview songs and videos and download directly from the Internet. I can use it as a navigation device with the Maps feature. I can store my contacts, calendar, and update my files, check out the weather, do my E-mail. I can play the games on the touch screen too, instead of trying to fool around with the click wheel. Ever try to play Bejeweled with a click wheel?
I had an HP iPac Pocket PC that I thought was going to do it all, but it was a huge disappointment. I even bought the thumb and QWERTY keyboards and a gorgeous red leather case for it. I never could find a SAN-disc card that it "liked," so I was unable to use the removable data storage function, it left much to be desired as an MP3 player, and if the battery got too low (which it seemed to do regularly, despite roosting on its dock every night) it would re-format itself and all the files would have to be restored.
The iPod Touch promises to be all the iPac was and more. I still have the old iPac in my computer hardware boneyard, and I think of all the money I wasted on it. I can't use it at all now that I have Vista. Can I believe in the Touch to deliver the equivalent of technological Nirvana? I'd sure like to think so.
I was happy, or at least mostly happy with the iPod I've had for the last three years. It is a black 30 GB video iPod, and the only things that bothered me were that it could no longer store my entire iTunes library, and that I would get a little cross-eyed after watching a video TV show on it. Before this one got ruined, I was thinking about buying another one with more capacity and giving this one to my husband. I'd been looking at the 160 GB iPod Classic, but then I stumbled across the iPod Touch while perusing Amazon.com, and I thought, "Whoa Baby, you've come a long way since I last looked at you!"
I considered an iPod Touch when it first came out, since everyone was raving about it, but I dismissed it then because the capacity was so low that I couldn't see any point in investing in one. Now, however, you can buy one with 32 GB of capacity, and Internet access, and Wi-fi! That puts it in a different league entirely from the iPod I'm used to--not to mention the fact that it has a much larger screen, so I won't get cross-eyed anymore. I can preview songs and videos and download directly from the Internet. I can use it as a navigation device with the Maps feature. I can store my contacts, calendar, and update my files, check out the weather, do my E-mail. I can play the games on the touch screen too, instead of trying to fool around with the click wheel. Ever try to play Bejeweled with a click wheel?
I had an HP iPac Pocket PC that I thought was going to do it all, but it was a huge disappointment. I even bought the thumb and QWERTY keyboards and a gorgeous red leather case for it. I never could find a SAN-disc card that it "liked," so I was unable to use the removable data storage function, it left much to be desired as an MP3 player, and if the battery got too low (which it seemed to do regularly, despite roosting on its dock every night) it would re-format itself and all the files would have to be restored.
The iPod Touch promises to be all the iPac was and more. I still have the old iPac in my computer hardware boneyard, and I think of all the money I wasted on it. I can't use it at all now that I have Vista. Can I believe in the Touch to deliver the equivalent of technological Nirvana? I'd sure like to think so.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
My Romance with Sports Cars
Like many other folks, I’ve been in love with cars ever since I can remember, most specifically Sports Cars. My first love was a silver gray Corvette Sting Ray with red leather interior. I fell for that one when I was in high school, and whenever I saw it drive by, my heart missed a beat. I liked it so much, in fact, that I bought the Sting Ray model car kit (and I’m a girl). Then, shortly before graduating from high school, one of my schoolmates’ fathers bought a brand-new white 1965 Mustang coupe. I never got close enough to see the interior, but it was a honey.
When I went away to college at the University of Oregon in Eugene, I had to pass by the Jaguar dealership whenever I walked downtown from campus. That’s when I discovered the XKE, one of the most beautiful cars ever designed—and I’m not the only one to have that opinion. Once, I walked over to admire a silver gray one close up, and on an impulse I checked to see if the door was unlocked. To my complete amazement, it was, and before I knew what I was doing, I had gotten in and was sitting in the driver’s seat. I think Heaven must have dove gray glove leather seats and a solid wood steering wheel. I was high for at least a week! Through the years I’ve admired many other Sports Cars, but those three were the ones that began my addiction—three of the finest cars ever made. Very high on my list of great cars are the Porsche 911 Carrera and the Boxster, The BMW Z4, the MG, Triumph, Alfa Romeo, and all the Mercedes two-seaters. The car of my dreams, however, (and my current ride) is the Mazda MX-5 Miata, a car which single-handedly resurrected the two-seater convertible in a format reminiscent of the classic British MG—only in a better designed and more mechanically dependable format.
But what is a “Sports Car?” Nowadays people use the term quite loosely. To quote Eric Edwards’ article “Sports Cars: The Definition of Fun” on page 20 of Forever MX-5 Magazine (Issue 2), “The classic definition is that a Sports Car is a lightweight, 2-seat, no fixed roof, rear-wheel drive automobile designed for sporting driving or racing. If it has a fixed roof, it’s a Grand Touring or GT. There can be GT 2+2s, if they have a rear seat. Not strictly Sports Cars, but generally derived from them and closely connected in spirit. And as you can see, these terms primarily describe configuration, rather than performance. The definition assumes that we are talking about cars that have some performance, not big lead-sleds.” Eric goes on to say that people outside the community have been blurring the definition of “Sports Car” for years now, so that the term is nearly meaningless. Nowadays the term refers to nearly any car that can be driven in a spirited manner. According to Eric: “I have heard it applied to Muscle cars, All-Wheel Drive sedans, front wheel drive coupes and even full-size pickup trucks. You’ll suffer a bit of abuse if you tell someone that their car is not a ‘Sports Car.’ No matter what you say, they usually end with, ‘Well, it’s a Sports Car to me.’”
I have to confess that, like many others, I’m guilty of blurring this distinction a bit, referring to just about any small car with a bit of zip to it as at least “sporty,” if not a Sports Car. Aficionados insist that a Sports Car must have performance capability. It must be able to go fast and handle well. Nowadays many cars are very well designed, and many of them are really fun to drive, but they are not necessarily “Sports Cars.” I remember a TV ad that Mazda ran a year or so ago: The scene opens with a small group of hikers standing next to a twisty piece of pavement cutting through the woods, and we can hear a car approaching, because the driver is noisily revving the engine and down-shifting through the curves. One of the young men looks at the others and says something like, “What’s coming?” One of his companions nods knowingly and replies, “Sports Car!” He listens intently and, based on what he hears, tells the group what kind of equipment the approaching “Sports Car” has on board. The group waits expectantly for this impressive machine to round the bend, while the driving noise gets louder and louder, when suddenly a little red Mazda 3, or some such car, rounds the corner. Everyone is dumbfounded, staring as it quickly rolls past and disappears from sight. As you may imagine, the young man who said it was a Sports Car is now taking some ribbing from his friends, but what Mazda is saying is that it’s not so much the looks that makes a Sports Car, it’s what’s under the hood and how it drives. They made their point, but I have to say, “Well, yes and no.” I have to agree with Eric Edwards that some sporty vehicles just are not Sports Cars, no matter how you view them or how they drive—and they never will be. That does NOT mean they are bad cars, nor does it have any bearing on how fun they are to drive through a twisty set of curves.
Having a Sports Car is ALL about fun to drive. Car and Driver Magazine once again placed the 2008 MX-5 Miata in their Top Ten Cars in the “most fun to drive” category—a distinction this little car wears proudly. Mark Stevens (mrkstvns)—who writes reviews and advice on hotels and restaurants and this review of the MX-5 Miata at http://www.epinions.com/content_286982180484—calls the Miata “a glorious expression of pure driving hedonism” and says driving one is “the most fun you can have with your pants still on.” Being one of the most fortunate people on the planet to own one myself, I can only echo his sentiments.
I had wanted to own a Miata since they first rolled off the production line, but back then it was totally out of the question. I was smack dab in the middle of my equestrian wanna-be period, and every spare nickel (even some of the committed ones) went into the horse project. There was no money for a car! I was too busy paying for another new broodmare, hay, and riding lessons twice a week. If I had any spare change, it went into new riding breeches or turn-out rugs (I typically had to buy each horse a new one every year, because they were trashed by the end of the winter). The Miata had to wait until it worked its way higher up on my list. In those days cars were a means of getting from one place to another or for transporting feed. What a come down.
As the years went by though, I noticed what other people were driving—the ones who had the luxury of owning powerful cars that were beautiful and not just utilitarian. I’d sigh over the Porsche 911 or the Corvette that just whizzed past my old Buick Electra, and wish things were different—but they weren’t. The Buick was a V-8, but that’s the only nice thing I could ever say about it, since it was painted that rotten gold color that never looked good and had a peeling vinyl roof. I always felt awful when driving it, and I would actually slump down and try to hide behind its big plastic steering wheel so no one could see me. I hated that car. Eventually, however (thanks to Sam), sanity returned to our household and the horses no longer ruled. We began to have extra money again. We even began owning better cars, though I went through several “interesting” Ford Pinto station wagons. One of my friends once commented that I had to be a really good driver to be able to drive them. Nice, huh?
I had been driving a cute little red Geo Storm for a couple of years, when it suddenly blew a head gasket coming up the long hill from the Renton-Maple Valley Road and abruptly died on me. I was crushed, because I didn’t have any money saved to replace it—we had always paid cash for our cars (part of why we drove beaters). I was wondering out loud to my husband Sam what to do, when he said, “Why don’t you just buy what you really want?—A Miata.”
What a concept! Just buy what I want? That would mean a car loan, something we had never done, and even though we had good credit, I had never considered having a car payment before. I realized that I could afford it, and better yet, I could get a loan through my credit union. They had just mailed me a flyer promoting their car loans a few days before, which I had automatically tossed in the recycle bin, so I gave them a call, started the loan process and got pre-qualified. Then I got on the Internet and made a list of all the Miatas for sale within 300 miles of my house. I narrowed that list down according to what I wanted in a car: year, engine, transmission, color, etc. I wrote E-mails and called prospective sellers, and then I sent Sam out to look at the ones I had finally selected. Out of 11 cars whose owners I contacted, five responded right away, and I made appointments with them. He was able to look at only three of them and took me to see two of those the following day. Of those two, it was obvious, even to Sam, which one was my car. It was as sweet and trouble-free a process as you could possibly hope for, and when I climbed in behind the wheel to drive it home, I slipped one of my CDs into the player. The very first song was "Hello, I Love You" by the Doors.
One disappointment was that the car did not have air conditioning, and that was promptly remedied. People think you do not need it in a convertible, but trust me, when you’re driving a black car through the Central Washington desert with the top down (or even up) in the summertime, you NEED air conditioning. I also bought a hard top (I live in Western Washington! Hello!). In the winter rainy season, you need one, in spite of the fact that the Miata has an excellent heater. People have asked me if I looked under the hood to check out the engine before I bought it. No, that was Sam’s job. As far as I knew, there was a team of squirrels under there, so why would I look? Aside from the air conditioning, though, the car was all I had hoped for and more. You can buy a used Miata and not worry too much, because people who own them are known to baby their cars, unlike many other Sports Cars which often are driven to death. You usually get good insurance rates, too, because many Miatas are owned by older women like me, who have excellent driving records.
In the three years since buying the car, I’ve personalized it quite a bit. I had a vision for this car, and I dare say that neither of its previous owners would recognize it now. It has a personal license plate: SABLWLF, named for a black wolf in a dream I once had. I added a rosewood steering wheel, a Zebrawood dash kit, Momo Zebrano shift knob, and rosewood brake handle; there are tasteful chrome touches also added to the interior, along with Roadster billet pedals and custom floor mats. The chrome looks great since it’s a black car with a black vinyl top and black leather interior. Last year I had a new vinyl soft top installed that has a glass rear window with a defroster. This year Sam came on board with some of what needed done, too, since I’m not mechanical (if it involves more than changing the oil or a tire, I’m lost), and now it has roll bars (real ones, not style bars), a spoiler, new intake and exhaust systems, a new header, new shocks, and a generally beefed-up suspension. It has brand new 17-inch Momo wheels and low profile headlights. Still to come are fiberglass Racing Beat body parts: new nose, rear bumper, and side skirts. Those are waiting in the garage to be installed. We are enrolled in the Evolution performance driving school in August and plan to do track days and autocross next year.
No, SABLWLF is not a puppy dog any more—it’s well on the way to being The Big Bad Wolf! And, you may ask, am I having fun? Oh most emphatically yes, I am!
When I went away to college at the University of Oregon in Eugene, I had to pass by the Jaguar dealership whenever I walked downtown from campus. That’s when I discovered the XKE, one of the most beautiful cars ever designed—and I’m not the only one to have that opinion. Once, I walked over to admire a silver gray one close up, and on an impulse I checked to see if the door was unlocked. To my complete amazement, it was, and before I knew what I was doing, I had gotten in and was sitting in the driver’s seat. I think Heaven must have dove gray glove leather seats and a solid wood steering wheel. I was high for at least a week! Through the years I’ve admired many other Sports Cars, but those three were the ones that began my addiction—three of the finest cars ever made. Very high on my list of great cars are the Porsche 911 Carrera and the Boxster, The BMW Z4, the MG, Triumph, Alfa Romeo, and all the Mercedes two-seaters. The car of my dreams, however, (and my current ride) is the Mazda MX-5 Miata, a car which single-handedly resurrected the two-seater convertible in a format reminiscent of the classic British MG—only in a better designed and more mechanically dependable format.
But what is a “Sports Car?” Nowadays people use the term quite loosely. To quote Eric Edwards’ article “Sports Cars: The Definition of Fun” on page 20 of Forever MX-5 Magazine (Issue 2), “The classic definition is that a Sports Car is a lightweight, 2-seat, no fixed roof, rear-wheel drive automobile designed for sporting driving or racing. If it has a fixed roof, it’s a Grand Touring or GT. There can be GT 2+2s, if they have a rear seat. Not strictly Sports Cars, but generally derived from them and closely connected in spirit. And as you can see, these terms primarily describe configuration, rather than performance. The definition assumes that we are talking about cars that have some performance, not big lead-sleds.” Eric goes on to say that people outside the community have been blurring the definition of “Sports Car” for years now, so that the term is nearly meaningless. Nowadays the term refers to nearly any car that can be driven in a spirited manner. According to Eric: “I have heard it applied to Muscle cars, All-Wheel Drive sedans, front wheel drive coupes and even full-size pickup trucks. You’ll suffer a bit of abuse if you tell someone that their car is not a ‘Sports Car.’ No matter what you say, they usually end with, ‘Well, it’s a Sports Car to me.’”
I have to confess that, like many others, I’m guilty of blurring this distinction a bit, referring to just about any small car with a bit of zip to it as at least “sporty,” if not a Sports Car. Aficionados insist that a Sports Car must have performance capability. It must be able to go fast and handle well. Nowadays many cars are very well designed, and many of them are really fun to drive, but they are not necessarily “Sports Cars.” I remember a TV ad that Mazda ran a year or so ago: The scene opens with a small group of hikers standing next to a twisty piece of pavement cutting through the woods, and we can hear a car approaching, because the driver is noisily revving the engine and down-shifting through the curves. One of the young men looks at the others and says something like, “What’s coming?” One of his companions nods knowingly and replies, “Sports Car!” He listens intently and, based on what he hears, tells the group what kind of equipment the approaching “Sports Car” has on board. The group waits expectantly for this impressive machine to round the bend, while the driving noise gets louder and louder, when suddenly a little red Mazda 3, or some such car, rounds the corner. Everyone is dumbfounded, staring as it quickly rolls past and disappears from sight. As you may imagine, the young man who said it was a Sports Car is now taking some ribbing from his friends, but what Mazda is saying is that it’s not so much the looks that makes a Sports Car, it’s what’s under the hood and how it drives. They made their point, but I have to say, “Well, yes and no.” I have to agree with Eric Edwards that some sporty vehicles just are not Sports Cars, no matter how you view them or how they drive—and they never will be. That does NOT mean they are bad cars, nor does it have any bearing on how fun they are to drive through a twisty set of curves.
Having a Sports Car is ALL about fun to drive. Car and Driver Magazine once again placed the 2008 MX-5 Miata in their Top Ten Cars in the “most fun to drive” category—a distinction this little car wears proudly. Mark Stevens (mrkstvns)—who writes reviews and advice on hotels and restaurants and this review of the MX-5 Miata at http://www.epinions.com/content_286982180484—calls the Miata “a glorious expression of pure driving hedonism” and says driving one is “the most fun you can have with your pants still on.” Being one of the most fortunate people on the planet to own one myself, I can only echo his sentiments.
I had wanted to own a Miata since they first rolled off the production line, but back then it was totally out of the question. I was smack dab in the middle of my equestrian wanna-be period, and every spare nickel (even some of the committed ones) went into the horse project. There was no money for a car! I was too busy paying for another new broodmare, hay, and riding lessons twice a week. If I had any spare change, it went into new riding breeches or turn-out rugs (I typically had to buy each horse a new one every year, because they were trashed by the end of the winter). The Miata had to wait until it worked its way higher up on my list. In those days cars were a means of getting from one place to another or for transporting feed. What a come down.
As the years went by though, I noticed what other people were driving—the ones who had the luxury of owning powerful cars that were beautiful and not just utilitarian. I’d sigh over the Porsche 911 or the Corvette that just whizzed past my old Buick Electra, and wish things were different—but they weren’t. The Buick was a V-8, but that’s the only nice thing I could ever say about it, since it was painted that rotten gold color that never looked good and had a peeling vinyl roof. I always felt awful when driving it, and I would actually slump down and try to hide behind its big plastic steering wheel so no one could see me. I hated that car. Eventually, however (thanks to Sam), sanity returned to our household and the horses no longer ruled. We began to have extra money again. We even began owning better cars, though I went through several “interesting” Ford Pinto station wagons. One of my friends once commented that I had to be a really good driver to be able to drive them. Nice, huh?
I had been driving a cute little red Geo Storm for a couple of years, when it suddenly blew a head gasket coming up the long hill from the Renton-Maple Valley Road and abruptly died on me. I was crushed, because I didn’t have any money saved to replace it—we had always paid cash for our cars (part of why we drove beaters). I was wondering out loud to my husband Sam what to do, when he said, “Why don’t you just buy what you really want?—A Miata.”
What a concept! Just buy what I want? That would mean a car loan, something we had never done, and even though we had good credit, I had never considered having a car payment before. I realized that I could afford it, and better yet, I could get a loan through my credit union. They had just mailed me a flyer promoting their car loans a few days before, which I had automatically tossed in the recycle bin, so I gave them a call, started the loan process and got pre-qualified. Then I got on the Internet and made a list of all the Miatas for sale within 300 miles of my house. I narrowed that list down according to what I wanted in a car: year, engine, transmission, color, etc. I wrote E-mails and called prospective sellers, and then I sent Sam out to look at the ones I had finally selected. Out of 11 cars whose owners I contacted, five responded right away, and I made appointments with them. He was able to look at only three of them and took me to see two of those the following day. Of those two, it was obvious, even to Sam, which one was my car. It was as sweet and trouble-free a process as you could possibly hope for, and when I climbed in behind the wheel to drive it home, I slipped one of my CDs into the player. The very first song was "Hello, I Love You" by the Doors.
One disappointment was that the car did not have air conditioning, and that was promptly remedied. People think you do not need it in a convertible, but trust me, when you’re driving a black car through the Central Washington desert with the top down (or even up) in the summertime, you NEED air conditioning. I also bought a hard top (I live in Western Washington! Hello!). In the winter rainy season, you need one, in spite of the fact that the Miata has an excellent heater. People have asked me if I looked under the hood to check out the engine before I bought it. No, that was Sam’s job. As far as I knew, there was a team of squirrels under there, so why would I look? Aside from the air conditioning, though, the car was all I had hoped for and more. You can buy a used Miata and not worry too much, because people who own them are known to baby their cars, unlike many other Sports Cars which often are driven to death. You usually get good insurance rates, too, because many Miatas are owned by older women like me, who have excellent driving records.
In the three years since buying the car, I’ve personalized it quite a bit. I had a vision for this car, and I dare say that neither of its previous owners would recognize it now. It has a personal license plate: SABLWLF, named for a black wolf in a dream I once had. I added a rosewood steering wheel, a Zebrawood dash kit, Momo Zebrano shift knob, and rosewood brake handle; there are tasteful chrome touches also added to the interior, along with Roadster billet pedals and custom floor mats. The chrome looks great since it’s a black car with a black vinyl top and black leather interior. Last year I had a new vinyl soft top installed that has a glass rear window with a defroster. This year Sam came on board with some of what needed done, too, since I’m not mechanical (if it involves more than changing the oil or a tire, I’m lost), and now it has roll bars (real ones, not style bars), a spoiler, new intake and exhaust systems, a new header, new shocks, and a generally beefed-up suspension. It has brand new 17-inch Momo wheels and low profile headlights. Still to come are fiberglass Racing Beat body parts: new nose, rear bumper, and side skirts. Those are waiting in the garage to be installed. We are enrolled in the Evolution performance driving school in August and plan to do track days and autocross next year.
No, SABLWLF is not a puppy dog any more—it’s well on the way to being The Big Bad Wolf! And, you may ask, am I having fun? Oh most emphatically yes, I am!
Friday, July 11, 2008
A Curious Phenomenon: Renting Handbags?
From time to time things come along that, I must admit, totally astound me. One of these phenomena is renting high-priced designer handbags. In fact, one is not limited only to handbags; one can also rent designer sunglasses. So many women are doing it apparently, that it has been featured in the new Sex and the City movie, presumably to market the service to yet more women who would like to have the bags but cannot afford them—or at least can’t afford more than one. I must be rather out of fashion these days, and the fact is that it has been some time since I especially cared whether I was au currant or not, but be serious—RENTING handbags?
I have noticed that a number of my co-workers (I work almost entirely with women in my office) are caught up in the designer handbag thing. Some of them can afford to buy them, though they usually drive miles out of their way to buy them at outlet mall stores. Yes, the bags are attractive, and I don’t mean to step on the toes of women who really want to own designer handbags—hey, it’s your money honey! It’s just that I don’t personally understand it. I have to admit there is one Chanel makes that I wouldn’t mind having, but it goes for $600—a price that I find exorbitant and refuse to pay for an item to carry my clutter, no matter how attractive it is. Besides, I have no reason to impress anybody on that level, nor have I ever wanted to be a walking billboard. Am I impressed that somebody has a $600 handbag? I suppose I am, but it is not with the handbag, and I wonder how much better the $600 might have been spent. Charity? Retirement fund? Don’t get me wrong. I am not known to be a tightwad or penny pincher and will drop $500 at the drop of a hat if it’s something I want. If you’ve seen my dog, my car, or all the equestrian apparel and tack I own, you know it’s true!
I have several handbags, including some I have made. My favorite is a little black leather shoulder bag made by Koltov that I bought at Fred Meyers for $30 about four years ago. It carries everything I need, is not clunky, and does it in style. Another favorite is a designer Coach bag that I bought at Value Village five years ago for $2.50. It is indeed the real article, and I almost went into shock when I found it, but I snapped it up as though I were sinking a fly on a lunker. It was in almost perfect condition, showing a little wear along one outer seam, but that was all, and I happily plunked down my $2.50—one hundredth of what that particular handbag normally sells for. It is a pretty bag, being one of the smaller ones Coach makes, and I might have bought it anyway for the style, but what really tickled me about this particular purchase is that I made a huge score. I have a cotton string bag (made out of ordinary cotton kitchen string) I crocheted that is perfect for summer and which took two days to make. One year for her birthday I gave my boss at work a black suede yarn evening bag that I made—and I liked it so much that I made another one for myself.
As for me, I need to have more than one bag, so I guess women who rent the designer bags also have ordinary ones that pinch hit when the designer ones won’t do. While I no longer try to match them to my shoes or outfit, one handbag is not appropriate for all occasions. If I get bored using one handbag, I simply switch to another one, or if I need to carry more items with me, then I use one of the larger carry-all tote bags. Since mine are less expensive, I can afford to have several and use the one that suits my needs for the day, rather than waiting for a new designer one to come in the mail or by Fedex. I just go get a different one out of the closet! Since I have made handbags of my own (it’s not very hard folks), I have done so when I needed a new one rather than go down and buy another. It’s fun and creative, so if you are capable of sewing, knitting, or crocheting, why not? You will truly have an original plus the satisfaction that goes with being able to say, “I made it myself.”
This summer I’ve tried getting along without handbags entirely. My success has been limited, but it’s one less thing to keep track of. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve misplaced my handbag or left it behind in stores, and since it’s very distressing (your whole life is in there, not to mention all your important make-up), I figured out how to do it when I didn’t need to take very much with me. Men don’t use handbags, after all, so I believed it must be possible.
Eliminating money and carrying only plastic got rid of the wallet. All I needed was a card case with a zipper compartment for storing change. I needed my keys, sunglasses and some lip gloss, too, but those items could all either be worn or stored in pockets. Now I know why jeans have five pockets and jackets have one out of sight inside the lapel. I felt so clever about this, until one day I was at the grocery store and realized that I had neglected to bring my card case with my driver’s license, debit, and credit cards. Oops! That was embarrassing, but what made the clerk think I was insane was that I was trying to get along without a handbag.
There are many aspects of human behavior that I cannot fathom and never will. Renting designer handbags is one of those phenomena, so I’ve given up trying and just say, “If it makes you happy, you can afford it, and it’s your money, then I guess you can!”
I have noticed that a number of my co-workers (I work almost entirely with women in my office) are caught up in the designer handbag thing. Some of them can afford to buy them, though they usually drive miles out of their way to buy them at outlet mall stores. Yes, the bags are attractive, and I don’t mean to step on the toes of women who really want to own designer handbags—hey, it’s your money honey! It’s just that I don’t personally understand it. I have to admit there is one Chanel makes that I wouldn’t mind having, but it goes for $600—a price that I find exorbitant and refuse to pay for an item to carry my clutter, no matter how attractive it is. Besides, I have no reason to impress anybody on that level, nor have I ever wanted to be a walking billboard. Am I impressed that somebody has a $600 handbag? I suppose I am, but it is not with the handbag, and I wonder how much better the $600 might have been spent. Charity? Retirement fund? Don’t get me wrong. I am not known to be a tightwad or penny pincher and will drop $500 at the drop of a hat if it’s something I want. If you’ve seen my dog, my car, or all the equestrian apparel and tack I own, you know it’s true!
I have several handbags, including some I have made. My favorite is a little black leather shoulder bag made by Koltov that I bought at Fred Meyers for $30 about four years ago. It carries everything I need, is not clunky, and does it in style. Another favorite is a designer Coach bag that I bought at Value Village five years ago for $2.50. It is indeed the real article, and I almost went into shock when I found it, but I snapped it up as though I were sinking a fly on a lunker. It was in almost perfect condition, showing a little wear along one outer seam, but that was all, and I happily plunked down my $2.50—one hundredth of what that particular handbag normally sells for. It is a pretty bag, being one of the smaller ones Coach makes, and I might have bought it anyway for the style, but what really tickled me about this particular purchase is that I made a huge score. I have a cotton string bag (made out of ordinary cotton kitchen string) I crocheted that is perfect for summer and which took two days to make. One year for her birthday I gave my boss at work a black suede yarn evening bag that I made—and I liked it so much that I made another one for myself.
As for me, I need to have more than one bag, so I guess women who rent the designer bags also have ordinary ones that pinch hit when the designer ones won’t do. While I no longer try to match them to my shoes or outfit, one handbag is not appropriate for all occasions. If I get bored using one handbag, I simply switch to another one, or if I need to carry more items with me, then I use one of the larger carry-all tote bags. Since mine are less expensive, I can afford to have several and use the one that suits my needs for the day, rather than waiting for a new designer one to come in the mail or by Fedex. I just go get a different one out of the closet! Since I have made handbags of my own (it’s not very hard folks), I have done so when I needed a new one rather than go down and buy another. It’s fun and creative, so if you are capable of sewing, knitting, or crocheting, why not? You will truly have an original plus the satisfaction that goes with being able to say, “I made it myself.”
This summer I’ve tried getting along without handbags entirely. My success has been limited, but it’s one less thing to keep track of. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve misplaced my handbag or left it behind in stores, and since it’s very distressing (your whole life is in there, not to mention all your important make-up), I figured out how to do it when I didn’t need to take very much with me. Men don’t use handbags, after all, so I believed it must be possible.
Eliminating money and carrying only plastic got rid of the wallet. All I needed was a card case with a zipper compartment for storing change. I needed my keys, sunglasses and some lip gloss, too, but those items could all either be worn or stored in pockets. Now I know why jeans have five pockets and jackets have one out of sight inside the lapel. I felt so clever about this, until one day I was at the grocery store and realized that I had neglected to bring my card case with my driver’s license, debit, and credit cards. Oops! That was embarrassing, but what made the clerk think I was insane was that I was trying to get along without a handbag.
There are many aspects of human behavior that I cannot fathom and never will. Renting designer handbags is one of those phenomena, so I’ve given up trying and just say, “If it makes you happy, you can afford it, and it’s your money, then I guess you can!”
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
What Makes a Team?
Yes, I know I wasn't going to talk about sports anymore, but when you live where there are professional sports and college teams, you can't help but hear what's going on even when you're not interested. Through the years there has been a great deal of buzzing going on over the airwaves about all our local teams, whether it be the pros or college teams, and it got me wondering, just what IS a team?
I'm certain most of us think first of the groups of players who go out there and duel with other groups of players, or we may also include in those thoughts the coaches, managers, or even the owners. To be sure, all of them are included, but what really got me engaged in this train of thought was a big promotion done last fall by the Seahawks called "the Twelfth Man."
"The Twelfth Man," which is of course the fans, was all over the local news last fall, and there were many promotional events with free items given away to encourage the fans to be supportive of the Seahawks. Even as a dis-interested bystander, I was impressed by all this, and it made me realize that actually the fans are the most important part of the team, when all else is said and done.
Coaches, managers, players, and even owners come and go, but the fans--those loyal diehards who make it to most if not all of the games, or watch every game on TV, who paint their faces, and dress up in ridiculous outfits, buy tons of team memorabilia, or not, who have bumper stickers on their cars, and give team stuff to all their kids and friends--the fans are always there. Hey, the players who once belonged to the Sonics are gone, but the team name, past trophies, AND the fan base are all still here. What Oklahoma City has is not the Sonics. I don't even know what they have decided to call that team. Regardless of the season of the year, loyal fans are always there supporting their teams and should not be discounted. If not for them, there would be nobody filling the stands at games, and there would be no reason for anyone to play ball at all.
I can't remember all the times friends or family members have told me how important their teams are to them. Their teams. They take ownership, and how their teams perform is a personal thing--a matter of personal pride. One of my closest friends recently told me that one of his goals in life is to watch a professional baseball game at every single stadium in the country. Well, I was impressed by that, because it made me wonder what would be so important to me that I would put it on my bucket list? I'm still thinking about it.
Even though I doubt I will ever attend any of the games held here--unless I go with my friend who wants to watch the Mariners play--I have to admit that professional sports fill a void for many people. I don't seem to experience that in my own life, perhaps because I'm busy with my own particular interests; but I can honor it, whether I participate or not.
I'm certain most of us think first of the groups of players who go out there and duel with other groups of players, or we may also include in those thoughts the coaches, managers, or even the owners. To be sure, all of them are included, but what really got me engaged in this train of thought was a big promotion done last fall by the Seahawks called "the Twelfth Man."
"The Twelfth Man," which is of course the fans, was all over the local news last fall, and there were many promotional events with free items given away to encourage the fans to be supportive of the Seahawks. Even as a dis-interested bystander, I was impressed by all this, and it made me realize that actually the fans are the most important part of the team, when all else is said and done.
Coaches, managers, players, and even owners come and go, but the fans--those loyal diehards who make it to most if not all of the games, or watch every game on TV, who paint their faces, and dress up in ridiculous outfits, buy tons of team memorabilia, or not, who have bumper stickers on their cars, and give team stuff to all their kids and friends--the fans are always there. Hey, the players who once belonged to the Sonics are gone, but the team name, past trophies, AND the fan base are all still here. What Oklahoma City has is not the Sonics. I don't even know what they have decided to call that team. Regardless of the season of the year, loyal fans are always there supporting their teams and should not be discounted. If not for them, there would be nobody filling the stands at games, and there would be no reason for anyone to play ball at all.
I can't remember all the times friends or family members have told me how important their teams are to them. Their teams. They take ownership, and how their teams perform is a personal thing--a matter of personal pride. One of my closest friends recently told me that one of his goals in life is to watch a professional baseball game at every single stadium in the country. Well, I was impressed by that, because it made me wonder what would be so important to me that I would put it on my bucket list? I'm still thinking about it.
Even though I doubt I will ever attend any of the games held here--unless I go with my friend who wants to watch the Mariners play--I have to admit that professional sports fill a void for many people. I don't seem to experience that in my own life, perhaps because I'm busy with my own particular interests; but I can honor it, whether I participate or not.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
First Thoughts
When I first thought about writing a blog, it was with the idea that I'm a fairly decent writer with opinions worth sharing, so why not? Several of my friends already had them going, and I had been reacting to what they'd written for some time. What about adding a few of my own threads to the clog on the Internet? Well, here goes.
Since I'm a girl, you will note that this blog will probably not often deal with some masculine topics. For instance, I have never been into professional sports, and even though I now hail from the Seattle area, I have never been to a Seahawks, Sonics, or Mariners game. I have never been to any Huskies' games or to the Storm"s or Sounders' games. I have nothing against them especially, it's just that I'm not spending my hard-earned dollars watching somebody else get paid for playing games that I played in high school and college, nor do I waste money on team memorabilia. True, I was not as good at it as to merit someone paying ME to play ball, but I had fun doing it myself. Nowadays I ride my horse or play at autocross with my Miata from time to time--but here's the point I'm trying to make: I'm spending my money on my own good time, not watching somebody else have theirs.
Like all good locals, I'm not against watching the lads and lassies on TV when they're doing well, if I have the time. Some of what happens in the professional sports world, however, borders on idiocy. Take the recent affairs of the basketball team "formerly known as the Seattle Sonics," for example. The City of Seattle locked the Sonics into a terrible contract a few years back, which hinged on the remodeling of the Key Arena venue in the Seattle Center complex. I believe I remember hearing at the time that it was a terrible contract and wouldn't work, but what of that? The next thing we locals hear is whining about what a terrible contract the Sonics were locked into. They were unhappy and wanted a whole new sports dome built just for them. Before reading any further, you must realize that King County taxpayers had already been roped into building new sports venues for not one but two other Seattle professional sports teams--against the protests of local voters. But who cares what the taxpayers want when professional sports are at stake? The King Dome, which was supposed to serve all of them except the Sonics, was demolished. The Mariners got Safeco Field, and an engineering marvel it is; the Seahawks got Qwest Field--and yes, Paul Allen paid for a sizable chunk of that. But now the Sonics, which were sold to new owner Clay Bennet could not be expected to play in such a substandard place as Key Arena. Hey, I've been there from time to time for other events, and it looked perfectly fine to me--oh, but I didn't go upstairs to the penthouses or to the locker rooms. Sorry, I wasn't invited to view those supposedly sorry pieces of real estate.
Here we are with the taxpayers being expected to once again foot the bill for another Sports Dome, which will end up happening anyway once the State Legislature okays it. Is anyone surprised that the proposals batted around last summer didn't fly? Clay Bennet knew all along that the voters would not spring for yet another new arena. Then we heard that Bennet never had any intention of keeping the Sonics here. He meant to move the team to Oklahoma City from the beginning.
I have to laugh now that all the dust has settled, because the real winner here is the City of Seattle, which negotiated a heck of a settlement with Bennet. Clay Bennet did get a team for Oklahoma City but he had to pay through the nose to get out of the last two years of their contract to play here. He didn't get the Sonics name--he got the players and some of the team infrastructure, all at a cost of what I've heard on TV may be somewhere around $500 million by the time he's through. Gees, Clay, don't you feel smart? You even have to help Seattle find a new team to play here or it will cost you another 30 million! You can't even take the banners or the 1979 NBA trophy with you, even though you had duplicates made to show off down there. Everybody knows they're fakes, Clay. We may still be angry about what you pulled, but we are laughing at you all the same!
Since I'm a girl, you will note that this blog will probably not often deal with some masculine topics. For instance, I have never been into professional sports, and even though I now hail from the Seattle area, I have never been to a Seahawks, Sonics, or Mariners game. I have never been to any Huskies' games or to the Storm"s or Sounders' games. I have nothing against them especially, it's just that I'm not spending my hard-earned dollars watching somebody else get paid for playing games that I played in high school and college, nor do I waste money on team memorabilia. True, I was not as good at it as to merit someone paying ME to play ball, but I had fun doing it myself. Nowadays I ride my horse or play at autocross with my Miata from time to time--but here's the point I'm trying to make: I'm spending my money on my own good time, not watching somebody else have theirs.
Like all good locals, I'm not against watching the lads and lassies on TV when they're doing well, if I have the time. Some of what happens in the professional sports world, however, borders on idiocy. Take the recent affairs of the basketball team "formerly known as the Seattle Sonics," for example. The City of Seattle locked the Sonics into a terrible contract a few years back, which hinged on the remodeling of the Key Arena venue in the Seattle Center complex. I believe I remember hearing at the time that it was a terrible contract and wouldn't work, but what of that? The next thing we locals hear is whining about what a terrible contract the Sonics were locked into. They were unhappy and wanted a whole new sports dome built just for them. Before reading any further, you must realize that King County taxpayers had already been roped into building new sports venues for not one but two other Seattle professional sports teams--against the protests of local voters. But who cares what the taxpayers want when professional sports are at stake? The King Dome, which was supposed to serve all of them except the Sonics, was demolished. The Mariners got Safeco Field, and an engineering marvel it is; the Seahawks got Qwest Field--and yes, Paul Allen paid for a sizable chunk of that. But now the Sonics, which were sold to new owner Clay Bennet could not be expected to play in such a substandard place as Key Arena. Hey, I've been there from time to time for other events, and it looked perfectly fine to me--oh, but I didn't go upstairs to the penthouses or to the locker rooms. Sorry, I wasn't invited to view those supposedly sorry pieces of real estate.
Here we are with the taxpayers being expected to once again foot the bill for another Sports Dome, which will end up happening anyway once the State Legislature okays it. Is anyone surprised that the proposals batted around last summer didn't fly? Clay Bennet knew all along that the voters would not spring for yet another new arena. Then we heard that Bennet never had any intention of keeping the Sonics here. He meant to move the team to Oklahoma City from the beginning.
I have to laugh now that all the dust has settled, because the real winner here is the City of Seattle, which negotiated a heck of a settlement with Bennet. Clay Bennet did get a team for Oklahoma City but he had to pay through the nose to get out of the last two years of their contract to play here. He didn't get the Sonics name--he got the players and some of the team infrastructure, all at a cost of what I've heard on TV may be somewhere around $500 million by the time he's through. Gees, Clay, don't you feel smart? You even have to help Seattle find a new team to play here or it will cost you another 30 million! You can't even take the banners or the 1979 NBA trophy with you, even though you had duplicates made to show off down there. Everybody knows they're fakes, Clay. We may still be angry about what you pulled, but we are laughing at you all the same!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
