The Eclectic Mix

So I’m driving home tonight and see this:

…Or at least this kind of car driving in front of me. For the uninitiated, it’s a Smart Fortwo Cabriolet. And I’m struck by many things all at once about this, which just seems to help reemphasize the fact that I’m just getting older.

First off, just where the hell is the engine in this thing? Just looking at it, I’m pretty sure where my feet should be, assuming I could shoehorn myself into one of these things, would be somewhere right over the front wheel axle. That wouldn’t be a good thing…Especially since somewhere right around there should be an engine to make the damned thing go.

Second, a convertible? Really? It’s as if some designer said “hey, I know how to make this thing totally dangerous!” In the original model, you don’t have much structure between you and a horrible death should you find yourself in an accident, so why not peel away any roof structure that might even give just a small amount extra security?

Makes perfect sense.

I know. I had a very small car once (well, twice, but that’s a different story). In fact, this:

And frighteningly, it’s probably almost twice the size of the stupid Fortwo. And even in the Festiva, you never felt completely safe…

But it’s progress, I suppose. So someday, I imagine we might all be commuting to work in our little self-enclosed Segway bubbles. Though I’m not entirely sure how the hell I’d carry my family on a Segway. Unless they make those things in minivan.

In the end, advances happen. It’s what humanity does. We get bored, and we invent better things. Or different things. Or things that someone somewhere think improve on other things, even though some think the original things didn’t need improvement.

It’s all over the map, the things that get improved upon and advanced, whether we want it or not: cars, computers, software, televisions, lights, breakfast cereals, laundry detergent, phones and more…

So I’ve moved on from the pregnant roller skate to an even bigger one: a minivan. My car has gotten larger and safer, all in the name of the perception of safety for my family, and because I need to carry five people at once.

And Jenni and I moved on to new cell phones last week because of a variety of factors: simple entropy, capability, design, and even money. It was a perfect storm of circumstances that made it happen, and so we’ve gotten much, much more service and capability for not very much more money at all. And even that was an advance. We’ve been on the same cell phone plan since 2004–six full years with the same plan on T-Mobile, with the only changes being adding Patrick’s line and getting Jenni a texting plan for youth stuff.

So then there was a special announced…Or actually a series of specials: additional lines for half the cost that they had been–especially useful since I’m going to have to add two lines sometime in the next six months, probably. A 2-for-1 deal to buy certain phones, including ours. And moving to a new plan meant I was now eligible to go on the corporate discount.

I went from a simple, basic phone to this:

My phone is now smarter than my first computer, as scary as that is. And in some time, this too will become obsolete…It doesn’t really seem possible now, but it will be, some day. And that’s progress.

Yes, I’ll admit it: it’s damned cool, and exactly what the geek in me craves. But for my iPhone coveting wife, I was a little worried–would she accept something that wasn’t branded with fruit?

Thankfully, she has fully embraced it. And I’ve gone a bit nuts. But it’s an advancement in our lives. I’ll save the enumeration of those advancements for later…Just so I’ve got something to write about some other time. But it’s been very helpful…and fun.

So life moves on, mostly for the better. With some new and different toys.

See you tomorrow.

Well, it’s home. Ah, well, the car, that is. After almost two weeks, the car, and the portion of the family that it serves, is whole again.

Oh, I know it’s not over. There’s still the (not so) minor issue of getting the deductible out of the other guy’s insurance company. Oh, it’ll come. But we all know how insurance companies like to drag their feet–money and lawyers don’t mix, and that’s what that industry is made up of.

Even better is the bonus of being rid of the little clown-car rental we had. Fitting all five of us in there was a stretch, and fortunately, we only needed to do that once. So it’s nice to be back in the van, towering over traffic, with room to stretch out and not be shoulder to shoulder with my wife when we were both in the car together. Not to say I don’t like being right next to her, but it makes driving a little more difficult, what with the rubbing elbows and shoulders and all.

All told, the whole endeavor of returning our lives and conveyance back to normal is going to cost someone about $3,000, all of which could have been avoided if one person had been more careful and observant.

Ah, the little lessons of life. I hate it when life tries to teach you things the hard way.

Oh well. Off to drive the newly repaired van.

See you tomorrow.

So much for the day off.

The car, and it’s current state of disrepair dominated the day’s proceedings. Over the course of seven hours, I spoke to two insurance adjusters from my insurance company, had the damage appraised, scheduled the appointment to get it into the body shop, arranged for and picked up the rental car, and was told I wasn’t a qualified driver…By my own insurance company.

Sigh. I swear this is the bad story that just keeps going. You know there’s an end somewhere, but like Dickens, they keep adding chapters to make this thing longer.

The adjuster that came to see the car in person decided quickly that the passenger door doesn’t simply fold in upon itself like that unless the other party is backing up at a high rate of speed. The second adjuster, who I spoke to on the phone, said he’d interviewed the other guy and that there is agreement that it was his fault and not mine. So all’s good there.

It was, however, in the course of this conversation that I was told I wasn’t a qualified driver on our insurance policy. Now, keep in mind we’ve had the same policy and agent for just about 13 years. So learning I was persona non grata on something I’ve been paying every month for the last 13 years is a bit disheartening. It’s fixed now, but Jenni had to vouch for me–that I lived there, drove the car on a regular basis, and was, indeed, part of the family. It was touch and go there for a minute, but in the end, she verified all the information asked of her. Apparently, I was separated from my family insurance-wise by a computer error or something like that.

After I got the quote from the adjuster who came here ($2100! the car’s only worth three times that right now…Better be a damned nice door and glass made from sand from the Riviera), I scheduled the trip to the body shop, which, of course, couldn’t be scheduled at a time which was fully compatible with those of us who work for a living. So, I’ll beg out of work early tomorrow and take the windowless car the mile or two to the shop.

So then came the rental car…Seemed easy enough, to hear the explanation of the process by both the adjuster and my agent’s assistant. The adjuster sends a request to the rental company, who calls me to arrange the rental. It’s paid for by the insurance company up to a weekly rate, and they’ll bill me for the rest.

Get a call while I’m out doing errands. They have a car. When can they pick me up to take delivery of said car?

I tell them I’ll call when I’m ready. Perfect, they say.

I call a bit earlier than promised, but they say fine. We’ll get someone out.

An hour passes. Then another half hour. No car.

The phone rings. Okay, we’re sending someone out. Perfect. I’ll be waiting.

Another hour goes by. I’m starting to wonder if the car is being send from Vladivostok.

The phone again. Um, where are you? If we’re coming from 35W…(which they weren’t, by the way)…

I gave directions, though cursorily. I really figured that if they couldn’t be troubled to refer to a map of the internet or employ a GPS, then this was probably a hopeless cause.

But minutes later, a black Hyundai pulls up. The driver, a fine, friendly, rotund, 70-something guy drives me back to their location…In St. Paul. There’s an Enterprise not 5 minutes from here…But oh well. Over the course of our 20 minute drive back to St. Paul, I become fully convinced that my own father should pursue this kind of part-time work. He’d get to drive all kinds of new cars, see the town, talk to people, and get paid to do it.

We arrived at the rental agency, and I went in to fill out the expected ream of paperwork. Now, please keep in mind that the insurance company set up this rental. They gave Enterprise my claim number, so they can bill the insurance company directly. One of the first things out of the mouth of the desk chippy is that she needs to confirm my insurance coverage.

Huhwhatnow? Um, you do know that my insurance company, who doesn’t so much as lift a finger for me unless my premium is paid on time, called you to arrange for this? Doesn’t that inherently prove I have coverage?

Apparently not. No, when it comes to cars and insurance, nothing is as easy as it should be.

We, and by we, I mean desk chippy, with me throwing varying degrees of eye-daggers in her general direction, spent the next 10 minutes on hold, because, as she so correctly pointed out, it’s MLK day. Places all over are understaffed today.

Eventually, all was proven. All was signed. A key was exchanged, and I have a compact for the next five days. And the saga will continue, unbroken, until the car returns home without the pronounced fold in the front door.

So that was my day off…How was yours?

See you tomorrow.

Greetings from Pewaukee, Wisconsin.

We’re here because Patrick has a karate tournament later this morning in nearby Waukesha (We’re about 20 miles west of Milwaukee). And after roughly 5-and-a-half hours driving, broken only by dinner in Menomonie, we arrived here in the western Milwaukee suburbs around 10 p.m. last night. A fitful sleep in typically uncomfortable hotel beds, and we’re all up and getting ready for the day.

And me? Yes, I’m availing myself of the free hotel wi-fi because…Well, because it’s there and it’s free. I’m paying $100 for the room and dang it, I’m getting my money’s worth.

But the trip brought back memories. Specifically, memories of me sitting in the back of our ‘76 Ford Pinto station wagon on the seemingly endless 5 hour journey to Sioux Falls. What Julie and I would have given to have a portable DVD player to watch 2 movies on the cross-country trek. Or iPods. Or reading lights. Instead, we had books, an AM radio in the car, and each other. Not a pretty combination. Just ask Mom.

The kids were great coming down. Silently watching the Chronicles of Narnia and the Simpsons’ Movie and only really bugging me after we picked them up at school because they were hungry and wanted to know when we’d be stopping for dinner.

Jenni read, too…School stuff, which as usual is dense enough to choke large mythical creatures. Though we had a great time laughing at the highway exit signs across Wisconsin–town names too different from what we’re used to.

Today, Patrick has his tournament. He seems pretty confident, especially since he did it last year at the same place. Normally he’d be crawling the walls with anticipatory nervousness, but not today. Nope. He’s chilling like the pro sports players you see on TV before the game: sitting in the locker room, listening to their iPod and not looking like anything else matters.

Tonight, we’ll be home, just in time for the time to change, and for us to get ready for the usual Sunday drill. I’ll have pictures and details tomorrow…

It’s astounding to me to think that really, there are very few places in our world you can go that doesn’t have wi-fi, or some form of public internet connection. For instance, I’m sitting right now at a table, next to the cafe at Hopkins Honda while the Odyssey, er Tardis, gets the door handle and a few other sundries fixed.

It’s almost a requirement these days that places where people spend a lot of time need to have publicly accessible internet access. Coffee shops, hotels, restaurants, and now even car dealers. It’s almost like it’s become the pay phone of our generation. I mean, how often do you see those any more? Everyone’s got a cell phone. It’s almost a stigma to not have one.

But really: since when did car dealerships see it as a necessity to customer service to not only provide yesterday’s newspapers, bad coffee and a TV that only seems to get one channel, but also a good wi-fi connection as well? Now granted, I’m sitting here, sipping a cup of tea, I’ll have you know, and the large rear-projection TV about 25 feet away is showing CNN from their DirecTV feed, but it’s amazing. The sheer overhead required for this stuff has gotta be amazing.

I know. It’s all in the package. I paid for it when I bought the car. And I know that car dealerships consider it a good thing to keep you here as long as you can. Maybe they can try roping me in to looking at the new Odyssey on the show floor again, like they did last week.

Honestly, though, do I really need to be able to check my e-mail while the car’s getting serviced? No, I probably don’t. But is it nice that I can? Did I go out of my way to bring my laptop tonight since I knew they had it? Absolutely. I’m no idiot.

So while I’m tapping out this entry and sipping on my tea, I can look across the room at the Honda branded golf bag, coffee mugs, and leather jackets at the “Honda Store.” I’m curious to look at the price, but I planned on this being a free trip: warranty service, and the free wi-fi.

Again, I’m no idiot.