Driving these days
For the past two weeks, I've been driving much slower. 70 to 75 mph versus 90 to 95 mph on the freeway, and no more than 5 to 10 mph over the speed limit on city streets. Why? Because I no longer want to be in a hurry.
Granted I like speed (velocity, not meth). I get a rush from zipping around... I become excited. But as of late, my nearly sedate driving style allows me to watch everyone zip past. On the freeway, I hang with other right-lane and second to the right-lane drivers. And it's OK. It's OK. I didn't realize how fast I used to drive... 90 to 100 mph on highway 280 feels comfortable.
The new commuter
The other week, I purchased a 1987 Porsche 944 Turbo from my mechanic (late-50s Italian guy named Al). It was a great deal - a nearly 20 year-old car with less than 82,000 miles. You do the math.
Unfortunately, the previous owner of the car, which has been with one family since the original purchase, has a wife who no longer wanted him to drive the car after the cost of the recent work performed - new clutch, front and rear brakes, master brake cylinder, new water pump and a few other items. So I purchased the car for the amount of the parts and labor.
The best part of the 944 is that it uses regular 87-octane fuel (and it has nearly 100 more horses than the 190E), because 91-octane, premium fuel -- at $2.55 to $2.75 a gallon -- for the C230 is killing me. (I drive 130-miles round-trip to and from the office.) I was filling the tank after 2.5 trips.
Now I need to sell the old 190E commuter. It's been fun. Gutless, but fun.
But I find it odd that driving a (20 year-old) 2-door sports car is the reason I changed my driving style. Granted my one-way commute to and from the office now takes an additional 10 minutes, but I do not mind. It's OK. Really.
MACSD - mothers against crack-smoking and driving
On my drive back to the loft yesterday, I saw an eradic driver in an old burnt orange-color Saab. He was swerving within his lane and at times crossing over the lane divider. He was not speeding, but was obviously cracked-out on something. I slowed down to 55 mph because I knew very soon he would hit someone. And I didn't want to be nearby. Approximately three minutes passed, and traffic came to a brake-screeching halt. After crawling in traffic for half a mile, I drove past the burnt-orange Saab. The driver was just exiting his vehicle. He was fine, but the front end of his car was *totaled*. He hit a full size truck that received significant damage to the rear quarter panel. Goodness... Don't smoke crack and drive.
Granted I like speed (velocity, not meth). I get a rush from zipping around... I become excited. But as of late, my nearly sedate driving style allows me to watch everyone zip past. On the freeway, I hang with other right-lane and second to the right-lane drivers. And it's OK. It's OK. I didn't realize how fast I used to drive... 90 to 100 mph on highway 280 feels comfortable.
The new commuter
The other week, I purchased a 1987 Porsche 944 Turbo from my mechanic (late-50s Italian guy named Al). It was a great deal - a nearly 20 year-old car with less than 82,000 miles. You do the math.
Unfortunately, the previous owner of the car, which has been with one family since the original purchase, has a wife who no longer wanted him to drive the car after the cost of the recent work performed - new clutch, front and rear brakes, master brake cylinder, new water pump and a few other items. So I purchased the car for the amount of the parts and labor.
The best part of the 944 is that it uses regular 87-octane fuel (and it has nearly 100 more horses than the 190E), because 91-octane, premium fuel -- at $2.55 to $2.75 a gallon -- for the C230 is killing me. (I drive 130-miles round-trip to and from the office.) I was filling the tank after 2.5 trips.
Now I need to sell the old 190E commuter. It's been fun. Gutless, but fun.
But I find it odd that driving a (20 year-old) 2-door sports car is the reason I changed my driving style. Granted my one-way commute to and from the office now takes an additional 10 minutes, but I do not mind. It's OK. Really.
MACSD - mothers against crack-smoking and driving
On my drive back to the loft yesterday, I saw an eradic driver in an old burnt orange-color Saab. He was swerving within his lane and at times crossing over the lane divider. He was not speeding, but was obviously cracked-out on something. I slowed down to 55 mph because I knew very soon he would hit someone. And I didn't want to be nearby. Approximately three minutes passed, and traffic came to a brake-screeching halt. After crawling in traffic for half a mile, I drove past the burnt-orange Saab. The driver was just exiting his vehicle. He was fine, but the front end of his car was *totaled*. He hit a full size truck that received significant damage to the rear quarter panel. Goodness... Don't smoke crack and drive.
posted by E-Double at 7:25 AM
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