I'd Rather Be Red

Hello World, Happy Summer! As any self-respecting Druid can tell you, the solstice occurs on June 21 this year, which actually means, believe it or not, that the days are already starting to get shorter from this point forward, as hard as that might be to believe. At this rate, summer will be over before it's even started, and then where will we be, I ask you that. Alert readers may be wondering, and well may they wonder, if Memorial Day has already come and gone, whatever happened with my sister's famous blowout BBQ over the 3-day holiday weekend, and 40 years in the making - frequented by far-flung friends and relatives from all 50 states, the farthest corners of the globe, and the deepest recesses of outer space, with all major alien groups from far distant galaxies well represented and equally welcome. Bill and I went on Saturday, when the weather was just plain horrible - 50 degrees with pelting rain that was blowing sideways, chasing the small band of hardy revelers indoors to huddle for warmth and refreshments. It was better on Sunday and Monday, and I'm sure as usual, their expansive property was awash with crowds, games, food, crafts, music and drinks of every kind, or whatever it takes to keep 'em coming back for more, year after year after year. We were sorry to miss the Klingons and Romulans, but it was probably just as well, because if they can't get along in the unfathomable vastness of space, then stuffing them into a one-room log cabin would be nothing but a recipe for disaster, with dilithium crystals on top. I'm guessing this is why they invented warp speed in the first place. In other (very) local news, and this of a more extraordinary nature, about the last thing we were expecting recently, was for our mechanic to give us very bad news about the Escort, after doing his best to repair its sluggish brakes. He explained that not only were the brakes the best they were ever going to be, but over time it had developed so many other problems that it was never going to pass inspection when it needed to, and there was no possibility that it was going to make it all the way out to VacationLand in July for a week in the woods. This was disheartening news indeed, especially since our mechanic is usually our one and only source for reputable used cars, and at the time that we were most desperate for one to be available, he didn't have any. So that was how we found ourselves in the unenviable position of having to brave the perilous waters of automobile merchants, and get our grubby paws on some other car, and not to mention, in a big fat hurry besides. The President's economic advisers may scoff, but please don't bother to tell me about how bad the economy is, because we discovered in our travels that the car dealers aren't even open on Saturday or Sunday, so that tells you something right there, Alan Greenspan. That didn't stop us from making the rounds of the used car lots along Route 1 where they cluster like termites around a wooden cigar store Indian (now THERE'S an analogy that's lost on young people nowadays, Geronimo) but we saw nothing that seemed promising, mostly giant SUVs and full-size sedans, or tiny 2-seat sports cars. My personal wish list of features seemed simple enough to fulfill - I wanted something that was not too big to handle, with four doors and a trunk, and after that, just about anything would have been fine. After much fruitless searching, and trudging through lots full of clunkers and cast-offs of all descriptions, we finally went back to the used car lot where Bill had gotten his snazzy Dodge Neon (and loves it still) and hoped for the best. Tucked away in a corner, we happened to spot a cute shiny red 2008 Chevy Aveo that was just a little darling, and with four doors and a trunk, was right up my alley. I never heard of it either, and it turns out they say it "ah - VAY - oh," which as made-up names go, is certainly not at the top of anyone's list, especially mine. For myself, this can't help but call to mind, although perhaps nobody else remembers, the old TV commercials for Aviance perfume by Prince Matchabelli, with the perky housewife dancing around the kitchen in her housecoat, whipping a dish towel around and singing: "I've been sweet and I've been good, I've had a whole full day of motherhood, But I'm gonna have an Aviance night ..... " [hunky guy shows up at front door in a tuxedo, while chorus chimes in] "Oh yeah, she's gonna have an Aviance night!" It turns out the Aveo was first manufactured in 2002 by the South Korean GM Daewoo division and is not still in production any longer, having been replaced after the 2011 model by the new Chevy Cruze, that you often see commercials for on television nowadays. (Personally, I think it would have been more successful for Chevrolet without such a stupid name, especially when you're making it up yourself and you have the whole alphabet to choose from. On the other hand, it was also known by different names in other countries - such as Kalos, Lova, Gentra, Vida, and Holden Barina - so I suppose that things can always be worse.) When we finally got in touch with the dealer after many attempts [ see Alan Greenspan note, above ] we learned the car was a little more on the pricey side than we would have liked, but came with only 33,000 miles on it, and in excellent condition, as well as loaded with all the latest and greatest accessories, at least for cars being built 5 years ago. Throwing caution to the wind, we took it for a test drive over to our mechanic, who loved it and found no flaws in it - and with its low mileage and mint condition, figured it was worth about $5,000 more than the dealer was selling it for. All that mattered to me was that I really liked it, and it wasn't some schlocky-looking lump that would be so unbearably boring, that I would fall asleep while I was driving it. (Or even worse, a silver doorstop with a spoiler, that I would be so embarrassed I would have no choice but to drive around town wearing a bag over my head, after years of tossing brickbats and insulting invective at them in my weekly curmudgeon-fests since time out of mind.) In fact, this one was in the best shape of any car I've had in the last 30 years, and it was chockfull of all the pep and pizzazz that I could ever hope for - especially considering that it just popped up like a shiny red miracle, at exactly the moment when a miracle was called for, and that's not just the perfume talking, Prince Matchabelli. Of course, it certainly is red red red and more red, there's no question about that as far as red cars go, which as anyone will be happy to tell you, are - (A) bad luck, (B) involved in more accidents, (C) ticketed more often, (D) stolen more frequently, and (E) charged higher insurance rates, than vehicles of a less incendiary hue. I don't know if all of that is true, but I suppose we'll find out as we go along. The one thing I can say for sure is that you never realize how many red cars are out there, until you start driving one, and then you see that they're everywhere you look. I won't say it's exactly a sea of red, but if you think you're seeing red spots before your eyes, it's not just your imagination, cherry cherry. Anyone from a far distant galaxy who hasn't bought a car lately, would fancifully assume that all you need to do is find the auto, pay the seller, and be on your merry way in the full bloom of motorized contentment, and don't spare the horses, my good man. Not so fast! From the time we first struck a deal for it, until we actually had physical possession of the car in our midst, it stretched out for a whopping 26 days, 5 hours and 30 minutes (but who's counting) and we still don't have the title or registration for it, even still. Since we had already turned over the Escort to him, the dealer had no choice but to give us a loaner in the meantime, which was actually another red Chevy Aveo, most likely an earlier model year of the same basic brand. This older and shopworn jalopy was lumpish by comparison, in a garish flaming red not at all like mine, and none of the amenities that would compensate for its shortcomings, just very bare bones minimalist transportation for people with no other alternatives. It seemed badly beat up and quivering, with a mysterious clunking noise from the underside that in no way instilled confidence in driver or passenger alike, and I ought to know. The first things I managed to figure out were the lights and wipers, electric windows and key fob for locking and unlocking the doors, so at least I could get to work and back, without looking like I had just stolen the car and had no idea how to operate it. After 3 weeks, I finally found the horn - it's one of those tiny tooty things, so that when you honk at anybody, no matter how mad or alarmed you might be at whatever they're doing, people think you're being friendly, and they all wave back at you, instead of having the desired effect. Heck, you may as well carry around a little rubber ducky squeak toy and use that instead, for all the good it does. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if "Aveo" is Korean for "rubber ducky squeak toy" after all. In all the excitement, I admit that I completely forgot that you can't just go ahead and park anywhere at the hospital, without a vehicle identification sticker, so after about 2 weeks, the poor loaner got slapped with a giant VIOLATION tag by our crack Security department, thanks not - and which I don't mind saying, was no improvement to its looks, believe me. I had to drop what I was doing and dash across the street to Personnel for a temporary parking pass in the interim, and protect the loaner from any further indignities. However, the good news was that at least it reminded me that when I finally got the new car, I needed to make sure to get an ID sticker before leaving it in the big lot and suffering the same fate for the same reason. I mean, everyone knows that red cars get more tickets, there's no sense in me going out there and making things even worse. Anyway, that's the story of my new (very gently used) car, and I'm sticking with it, or my name isn't - Little Big Red, along with Red Adair Red Barber Red Buttons Red Grange Red John Red Rover Red Skelton Red Sonja Red Widow and the rest of the Rubber Ducky Red Tag Team