A Man and His Cars

It’s a bit past 3:00 in the morning. I was happily snoozing away but was awoken by my alarm clock. No, I didn’t set it to wake me up at 3:00. The thing is that my alarm clock is actually my cell phone (or ‘mobile’ as it’s known over here in Europe…). What woke me was that I received an SMS (text message). It was Jon. He’s currently in Vienna partying with a bunch of DJs that he knew from seeing back in Miami a while back. Sounds (or reads) like he’s having a good time. Why he really thought I needed to be informed about this at 3:00 in the morning is beyond me, but that’s cool. Party on my man!

Since I actually went to bed very early last night I figured this unexpected early rise might be a good opportunity for me to add a bit to my blog. The only thing is that I really don’t know what to write about. Oh, I know, I’ll tell you guys about my automobile history. After all, I am a guy … guys are supposed to talk about chicks and cars, right? I’ve already talked about a few chicks. This posting will be about cars.

I grew up in a suburb of Detroit – the Motor City. Of course the “Motor City” moniker is really more of a leftover from a better time for the city. The American auto makers are most definitely not the power that they once were. The impression that I get in Colorado is that buying an American car (of course no cars are actually made in America these days … at least not completely…) is akin to buying the generic brands in the grocery store. It’s like buying the box that just says “Aluminum Wrap” rather than the more elaborately labeled “Reynolds Wrap” aluminum foil. You get something that usually serves the purpose but the quality is often questionable. Over here in Germany … forget about it. I think I’ve seen maybe two American cars. But I digress…

When I was growing up, however, the Motor City still actually meant something and cars were rather important to the male psyche. To be one of the cool guys you needed to have a cool car … and a cool car was one that had enough horsepower to supply several small cities. It really didn’t matter how the car looked as much as how the car performed. Bondo on the body was just war wounds…

Although I never had a cool car when I was younger, this image of what a “cool” car was has always stuck with me. After all we are, as adults, merely culminations of childhood ideals. My idea of a nice car these days is still focused primarily on power and performance. As far as I’m concerned, the pickups and SUVs that seem to have become so popular are toys for rednecks and really don’t interest me in the least. I want to be able to step on the gas and move – quickly! I really could care less that somebody’s SUV lets them carry an entire soccer team to the field, I’ll just be showing up alone (or maybe with one other friend). And this whole off-road concept seems stupid to me – all the roads I drive on are paved. Seems to me that all the roads these people that buy these off-road SUV behemoths drive on are paved as well…

The thing is that, as far as cars were concerned, I had absolutely no knowledge when it came to working on them. How one would swap out a carburetor or bore out the cylinders was all unknown to me and it seemed like these were the kind of activities that you would need to have knowledge of if you wanted to keep a more inexpensive car “cherry”. No, I needed to purchase whatever power I was going to get and have somebody else do the grease monkey work for me. This meant, of course, that if I wanted a decent sports car that I would have to pay the premium dollars. I was going to be a highly paid (yeah, right) engineer though, so I wasn’t too worried. Good things come to those that wait, right? I just needed to bide my time and I’d be able to get myself a sweet car in the future…

The first car that I actually ever purchased was a Geo Metro XFi. I bought this with the money I was able to get working at Ticketmaster during college. Okay, so it most definitely wasn’t my idea of a nice car, but I think I got the thing for something like a bit over 9 grand brand new. It packed a whopping 1.0 liter, 3 cylinder engine and came with absolutely no options. No A/C, no automatic transmission (it was actually a 5 speed manual – come to think of it, every car I ever purchased was a stick), no radio, nothing. Oh wait, I believe it did have rear window defrost. It was also sky blue in color – absolute chick magnet!

That car (I named it Shannon because it was so cute … personal reference here…) was actually not too bad. I mean yeah, getting on a highway was always a flirt with death (you basically floored it and hoped for the best) but it got great mileage and it served its purpose of getting me from point A to point B when I needed. I only had that car for something like a year before I decided to trade her in…

I traded Shannon in shortly after starting work at EDS. I think I got something stupid like a grand for the trade-in; but I really didn’t care. I was purchasing my first F-body – a shiny new, bright red Pontiac Firebird Formula. It was a ’94 and was one of the fourth generation F-body’s. The first time I saw one of these was actually a Trans Am that was on display at the GM World Headquarters when I was working there for EDS. It was love at first sight. I mean this car was sweet! They had also just recently packed an LT1 engine (the Corvette engine) into the F-body package and it was rated at 275 hp. I was finally getting myself a car that I could be proud of…

Six months, to the day, after getting the Formula, it was totaled. I was heading over to my buddy, Mike’s apartment and cruising along in the left lane of a standard five lane highway (the middle lane was a turning lane, of course). It was late in the evening and I saw that there was a car in the turning lane – facing me – a little ways ahead. This meant nothing as you’re in this same situation thousands of times without incident. The person turning waits for you to pass and then makes his turn when you are clear. It’s just standard operating procedure. This time wasn’t standard. As I was coming up on the car, the idiot went. I think I had enough time to say “Oh shit” and make a desperate attempt at the brakes. The next thing I remember was a very loud crash sound (you know it – that unique sound that’s created when two very massive objects hit head-on at sufficient speed) and coming to with an airbag in my face. There was a lady standing right outside my side window asking if I was alright. I don’t know how long I was out, but the lady standing outside my window was from the car that I had recently passed just before the accident.

Turns out that the idiot that decided to turn directly into the front of my car, his girlfriend and one other guy were coming from a bar up the road and heading over to Taco Bell for a bit of a snack. This dipshit was drunk! Now, mind you, none of those three were wearing seatbelts and the only one that was able to walk out of the car was the guy in the back seat. The driver was taken away in an ambulance and his girlfriend was rushed to a trauma center in a helicopter.

I actually don’t know if the girlfriend survived the crash. I just hope that the driver got some much needed sense knocked into him. The stupidity of some people is actually amazing at times and it seems to me that they like to flock together in groups. Detroit seems to be a nesting home for many of these groups…

I, amazingly enough, walked away from the accident unscathed. I was wearing my seatbelt, of course; and my car was equipped with airbags. It was also designed to be pretty safe in these situations as the engine actually dropped under the passenger compartment rather than coming in for a much unappreciated visit. American auto makers don’t get much respect these days but I will say that whoever was responsible for the design of that car did something right.

Of course damage like that is beyond repair and my Formula was no more. I was soon able to pick up a replacement vehicle – a ’94 Chevy Camaro Z-28. This one was a dark cherry red as opposed to the bright red of the Formula. Although it didn’t have all the bells and whistles of the Pontiac, it was still basically the same body/performance package. I kinda missed my cool little extras (the pop-up headlights and leather interior – stuff like that…) but the Camaro was a nice car. It was my primary means of transportation for the next 9 years.

About a month after getting the Camaro (which would later be named Christine for reasons that may become apparent…) I drove her into a freeway wall on I-75. The thing is that these cars really didn’t have very good traction control systems in them back in ’94. It had a limited slip differential, but that was more of a power related feature. You really didn’t want to be driving these cars in the snow. They were built for performance – not all weather performance, but brute force performance on your nice summer day. I knew this, but I needed to get home…

I was over at my brother’s place and it began to snow. I figured I could make it home before it got too bad and started my trip from Dearborn Heights back to Sterling Heights where I was currently living. The trip started out okay, but it was one of those Michigan snowstorms that just doesn’t let up. The roads were quickly becoming packed with snow so I stayed in the right lane and slowly proceeded forward trying not to give her too much gas and fishtail out of control. Unfortunately, this is exactly what I did just prior to coming up on my I-375 exit. Luckily there were no other vehicles around (I guess I was one of the stupid ones that was actually out there) as I pressed a bit too hard on the pedal and lost control. I slid across three lanes and smashed into the cement freeway divider at about a 45 degree angle. The damage wasn’t bad enough to make the car un-drivable so I was able to continue on to my apartment. $1,200 later I had the front end damage fixed and Christine was able to get through this ordeal.

Pretty much the exact same incident happened later in Colorado when I was trying to get to the airport for one of my many flights down to Dallas – another unexpected snowstorm and another rather abrupt stop after a bit of a fishtail show. That was the last incident I had with Christine as I traded her in the next spring for Precious…

Now between these two incidents there was one other episode with Christine – it happened probably about six months before my second close encounter with a freeway wall. This one was really a bummer. I was accelerating as I was turning left onto a five lane highway (it’s always those damn five lane highways…) when I heard a very load sound that appeared to be something breaking in the transmission. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. The power of the car instantly disappeared and there was this constant grinding sound of metal on metal. I coasted her into this bus stop that was close by and had her towed (well, transported … you really can’t tow F-bodies…) to this dealer in Boulder that has a good garage. Ends up that I actually busted the drive shaft in the engine! But this was only at 54k miles or so – these LT1 engines were supposed to be bullet proof. I can’t explain why (bad luck, perhaps…) but I somehow busted the drive shaft on mine at 54k miles…

After having the car transported to another garage for a second opinion, it was clear that the dealer’s garage was correct. I had somehow busted the drive shaft. The problem with this is that the only way to repair it was to get a new engine – and LT1’s aren’t cheap. So, I ended up paying something like 10 grand to put a brand new engine in Christine. In hind sight, that was actually pretty stupid as I traded her in the next spring anyway – I was able to get $8000 for the trade in due to the new engine, but I probably could have saved some money if I had just bought the new car when I killed Christine. Oh well … live and learn…

Oh yeah, there was also this time in Boulder where this ditsy blonde decided to pull out directly into my passenger door. She was driving her boyfriends SUV and merely scratched the front left bumper but forced me to get the entire passenger door replaced. That was all covered by insurance though so it actually didn’t end up being much of an ordeal. Just one more story about Christine…

As I mentioned, I ended up trading in Christine for my current car, Precious. I like this car. It’s an ’02 Pontiac Trans Am Firehawk. A last of the breed – they don’t make ‘em anymore. I have to admit that I treat this car like my little baby. I picked her up in the spring of ’02 and, largely thanks again to my parents, she spends a lot of time sitting in my garage. She only has a bit over 10k miles on her and I am doing my best to keep her pristine. I never drive her in the rain or snow and my typical washing routine takes multiple days.

What’s a Firehwk? It’s a factory released Firebird Formula (or Trans Am) that was sent to this shop called SLP (Street Legal Performance) for a bit of an upgrade. Precious is actually a Trans Am with an LS1 engine (full aluminum block and cylinder heads), SLP Ram Air intake and hood, 1LE suspension, SLP exhaust and she looks sweet. Firehawks are also very collectable as they are extremely limited in production (only 1500 were made in 2002). Not to mention that she’s rated at 345 hp!

For those days where I can’t drive Precious – and with my babying, this is by far the majority of the time – I drive my other car. This other car was actually a gift from my parents (Did I happen to mention how cool my parents are?) and is a ’93 Chevy Lumina Euro. It’s got quite a few miles on it (well, actually it’s not too bad considering it’s age) and spent a large portion of its life parked out on the street at my parent’s house in Michigan. It’s got a few war wounds but serves its purpose well.

So that’s it – my life history of car ownership. I doubt this was very interesting for you but it gave me something to do for a while… Thanks for reading and I’ll try to get back to some more interesting stuff in the near future.

bis später,

Coriolis