If You Can Afford a Bugati, You Probably Don't Care About 8 MPG

If You Can Afford a Bugati, You Probably Don't Care About 8 MPG

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Here's a list of the biggest gas guzzlers ...

 

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-Gbarb18

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Life with a German.

Her name is Gretchen, and she's my little 1.8t AWD A4. And though she's very distinguished, Gretchen has not captured my heart.

I look for a car that loves to get down and dirty. Even if the car is elegant and sophisticated in the parking lot or right lane of the local freeway, to earn my love, it always needs to be capable of slapping me across the face and biting my ear. Scarlet went so far a few times as to pull a knife and demand my wallet. I swooned. Gretchen, though, is far too up class for anything untoward. Gretchen may be beautiful and easy to live with, but she knows it and gets a little steamed when I try anything in public. Gretchen is very staid and polite where Scarlet was off her medication. Gretchen, sadly, may need to go.

What do you guys think? I really want a roomier Jeep (YJ or TJ) with a 4.0 liter and very little lift, but I'm open for suggestions. Just remember that if she's a lady in public AND in private, I'm not interested. I want scars when I'm finished.

Boats are better.

I hear Greg's argument that his choice is superior because his girlfriend has a matching one. I believe, though, that I drew a connection between the moped and purse already. Girls don't own boats, they ride in them. Girls own mopeds.

Andrew asserts that I'll be riding alone in my boat. This is a possible scenario, I'll admit. But look at who Masters entices with his toy: Old Guys. Yes, Masters will have many people approach him when he's out riding, but all of them will have penises. Boats attract women. Motorcycles attract dudes.

I win.

Wildfire

Oh the truth is finally revealed! I am so uncontrollably jealous of Greg's metrosexual weedeater that I can hardly stand it. The thought of having 70cc of pure power at the flick of my limp wrist is too much for my mortal mind to comprehend. Why God, did I spend the exact same amount of money for those extra 680cc?!?! SURELY! I will perish when I tuck into that turn at 110 and slide into a tree or an elderly woman in a Honda Fit. I must sell my suicide trap immediately and purchase something that could be mowed down unseen by a chump with a lifted truck that has never seen mud or a trail.

Alright sarcasm aside Greg's is jealous because his she-ped cannot go fast enough to kill him if he were to run it down a hill and into a tree. My bike on the other hand is the little brother of one of the original superbikes of the late 70's, the KZ1000. With that kind of pedigree pushing those tires down the road I'll be blissfully unaware that I have just hit a large stationary object and died. My remains will be scooped into a five gallon bucket and displayed for all to see and say "Dang, Masters went out in a blaze of glory and skidded up to the pearly gates in style, with a thousand scratches and not one unbroken bone."

What I Have That They Don't

Read the first 2 posts to this series, Matt's "Why a boat is better than what these *@&%! bought" and Masters' "Rebuttal"



My toy is this beautiful 1980 Honda Express Moped.

Here is the plain and honest truth with the situation, both "Big Cranium" Matthew, and "Mid-Life Crisis" Masters are jealous of both me and my summer toy. It's not because of what my toy is, but rather what I get to do with it.


The fact is this that, Matt got a boat that doesn't work, and Masters will surly die on his bike. 


The thing that separates me from them is that I have a girlfriend, and she's smokin', and check this out, she has a moped too!


That means while Matt is spending the entire rest of the summer, and the rest of his bank account no doubt, trying to fix his stupid purchase, and Masters is risking his life every second he sits on his. I am out enjoying the sun with a beautiful girl. 


So I ask you, who has the best summer toy?

Rebuttal

What Matt means by thinly veiled blah blah blah is that I bought a 1982 Kawasaki KZ750. It an olive-brown color and screams freedom and Amurrica! as it buzzes down the open road.


It may have been assembled in Japan but this little rocket is American through and through. The jealousy that fills Matt's soul every time he looks at my hot little number is beginning to boil over. He thinks that his semi-bouyant and immobile money pit (boat) is vastly superior as a summer toy.


He has one solid point that his vehicle can indeed hold more people but i swiftly reminded him that he has no friends and thus will be riding lonely and lopsided in his boat, the lopsidedness is an due to the effect of gravity on his massive cranium.


With all that said we need to bring this contest to the people. So lets hear your opinion on the matter, what is better a motorcycle that oozes gnarly or Matt's little dingy?

Why a boat is better than what these *@&%! bought.

I just bought a boat. Master's bought a thinly veiled mid-life crisis and Greg bought something to match his purse. I win. Boats are manly, communal, and fun. My girly roommates bought buzz traps that will invariably be run over by a large truck. Again, I win.

Boats are the best summer toy.

William the Boat Conquerer: Part I

I am back from the boat adventure, and let me first state that all is well and no one was injured. Yes, I got to borrow a 2005 Dodge Ram 1500 4X4 with the 5.7 liter V8 to tow my lovely new Sea Ray home. And, yes, I got 20 mpg while traveling towards Spokane to rescue my broken toy, but I only got 9.7 mpg with the boat affixed onto the tail of the charcoal colored Mopar. And I almost didn't get to even buy the boat because the former owner decided that he wanted cash, not the check that I brought, he didn't bring the title because he wanted to give me a bill of sale today and a title tomorrow, and the boat yard where the boat was stored was locked in a manner that the keys entrusted to us would not initially unlock. It was a fearsome tribunal of fire and chaos. And I emerged victorious with a 34 year old craft that needs an upper out drive, lots of spit and polish, and perhaps even a little love. While I may not have actually run out of gas, I was damned close. And while I was able to procure cash at 4pm on a Saturday in an amount greater than I thought was available to ATM users, it was a tense few moments before I succeeded in the withdrawal. What a day!

Today I conquer a boat, tomorrow I conquer the world!

I'm about to leave on a 10 hour round trip mission to become the owner of a broken boat. This trip will likely present all new challenges that I haven't yet considered, and will certainly be less exciting than I'm expecting, but for certain it will be well documented on this lovely little blog. Keep posted, I will share more details upon my return.

Pusher Truck Tryouts

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My suggestion for a 25 letter Alphabet.

I just drove a 2004 Cadillac CTS. Notice there, at the end of the model name, there was an absence of "hyphen V." A CTS-V is a RWD monster with a Corvette sourced V8 and massive brakes among other speed freak hardware, where the standard CTS has a still robust V6, face rippling brakes, and which still maintains the RWD chassis. Essentially, the CTS-V is to the standard CTS what the Subaru STI is to the standard WRX: stupid quick in place of alarmingly fast.

Here's the dilemma: I've always been told that if you were to buy one of these, you had to have the CTS-V. It was just better in every measurable quality. But this 2004 CTS that I just drove was amazing. That's right, I had a blast and didn't need the "hyphen V" at all. So, thanks to Cadillac engineers, I can't think of a single use of that letter. Hyphens, on the other hand, are totally useful, especially when two people with awesome last names decide to form a life bond. Ho-Masters or Dick-Smith come immediately to mind, but you get the point.

No more V's. Yes, the CTS has a lowly _6 in place of the mighty Cor_ette _8, and yes the cle_er giant stomper brakes ha_e been foregone in fa_or of more reasonably sized stomper brakes, but both will still detach retina. This little Cadillac has the handling, ride quality, and immediacy of its German competitors without the 'me too!' status on Belle_ue's Ba_arian clogged streets. This Cadillac deli_ers what very few ha_e in the last 100 some odd years: the sense that you are the first 7th grader to both grow a mustache and arm muscles. The Cadillac CTS is a mean bruiser whose _ery presence unsettles the weakling posers.

Now, who's got my lunch money?

Pusher Truck Tryouts

-Gbarb18

Pusher Truck Tryouts

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-Gbarb18

A ski boat shaped albatross.

I received a phone call last Thursday evening that changed my view point for the rest of the weekend.

Many of you are aware that I'm a bit white trash, in that I love collecting and trading broken things. I also love anything with a motor; the louder the better. Well, when I got the call informing me that a distant relative was selling a ski boat with a bad outdrive, I had to have it.

I called the relative, negotiated price, and worked out some details. Yes, the boat is an hour north of Spokane, WA (making it roughly 4-5 hours from me). Yes, it will likely cost another $700-1000 to fix. And, of course, I have nothing to tow it with, either from Deer Park, WA to Seattle, WA or from my apartment to a lake. These details will surely work themselves out.

As of Thursday, though, I had a handful of projects already jockeying position for my attention. And I don't need a ski boat any more than I need a pet Tiger. In the last 3 days, though, my busy little mind has been wrapped in visions of low cost boating. Perhaps it's time to find a skipper's hat and to pack my pipe once more with fresh tobacco.

Or, conversely, perhaps it's time to just open up a hole in the water to pour my money into.

Ze Germans strike again!

My little A4 was no more than simply a lovely little commuter until I dipped into 3/4 throttle. Then she became a ferocious continent conqueror. It seems that Audis are meant to be driven at more than 7/10ths.

I also stabbed a soccer ball and dropped a bottle of spit in the men's bathroom at a local park. I can't say that any of these events are linked, other than I'm fairly certain that if I weren't feeling so feisty neither the soccer ball nor the Audi would have been probed; the ball with my knife and the A4 with my foot.

The bottle of spit was an accident linked to Mac & Jack's consumption and Marlboro Snus Mint flavored pouches. Ze German linked more directly to my race home to type this nonsense. It's good to be alive.

The Half Million Mile Grand

My Mother owns a Grand Cherokee with over 500,000 miles on the odometer. According to Steve, those are likely on the original drive train. How astounding a concept, that as disposable as I and those around me have become with our expectations that some things as simple as what was a new car some 15 years ago could last 167 oil changes, 1700 some odd tanks of fuel, or what the average commuter puts on his or her vehicle in 48 years.

A guy in New York has a Volvo with over 2 million miles, and I've seen adverts with million mile Jettas or Toyota Pickups, but most of those cars are small, old, or at least boring. But Mom's Grand is four wheel drive, has decent leather interior, and a 4 liter inline 6 that runs so smooth that I've had to check the tach a few times to ensure the motor is still idling. It's fun.

Here's my thought, let's embrace old Cherokees and Grand Cherokees with 4 liter motors and start competing to see who can spin the highest number on the odometer. Let's collectively show Detroit that we don't want Libertys or Compasses. We want vehicles that put the Sport in SUV. And with cars like my Mother's Grand Cherokee as proof of concept, we can expect to have them even if Detroit hasn't delivered them in a decade or more.

Pusher Truck Tryouts

-Gbarb18

Listeria Hysteria

Over the weekend I met a pregnant woman who will not eat lunch meat. She's no vegetarian, mind you, but is terrified of Listeria.

Listeriosis is a bacterial infection that kills some 260 Americans per year. If you are also afraid of becoming ill, consider that pet dogs kill roughly 20 people per year (not counting attacks by Pit Bulls) and that somewhere around 6,000,000 Americans are mentally handicapped. So, yes, you are thirteen times more likely to be killed by Listeria than the family golden retriever, but you are 23,000 times more likely to be retarded than you are to become a victim of Listeria.

Now excuse me, I'm going to lay flat on my stomach in a field (the best known deterrent) to keep from becoming one of the 58 people killed each year by lightning strike.

The trade bug.

Long, long ago, in a city not very far away, I got a free Saturn sedan from a good friend. This sedan, in all of it's beige glory was thought dead by its prior owner, but I discovered that with air in the tires and a new(ish) battery under the hood it was in fact a decent commuter.

My uncle noted the value of my free commuter. This spawned the first trade: Saturn for 1956 Chevy.

The Chevy was a runner, a sedan, and a rust bucket. But it had a thumping 400ci small block that loved to roast the skinny rear tires in their own juices.

My good friend Andrew noted the value of my tire smoking machine. This spawned the second trade: 1956 Chevy for 1992 4Runner.

The 4Runner had a lifter tick, and with some minor modifications on my part, a few scratches in the paint (whoops). Otherwise, it was clean, reliable, comfortable and fun. But I bent a wheel while four wheeling, and realized that much worse would follow if I continued to own the vehicle. So I sought out a purpose built wheeling rig.

This spawned the third trade: 1992 4Runner for 1946 Willys.

The Willys, named Scarlet, was beautifully horrifying. Not at all unlike a pet tiger. It was cool to play with, but clearly it wanted to kill me.

My Mother coveted the Willys. This spawned my fourth trade: 1946 Willys for 2001 Audi A4.

The Audi is the polar opposite of the Willys. It is red to the Willys' green. It is an automatic to the Willys' manual. It has a roof. It is large enough for my considerable mass. It doesn't smell of unburnt fuel. The Audi, in terms of pets, is a goldfish. Safe, simple, easily forgotten and lovable regardless.

The Audi is mine for now. Let's see what trades develop.

Pusher Truck Tryouts

-Gbarb18

The A4 Dilemma; or How to Navigate Wisdom's Obstacles

I have been offered a 2001 Audi A4 Quatro 1.8t for a killer deal. Yes, it is red, and yes, it is an automatic, but it is a turbocharged all wheel drive with actual road manners. So in summation it is fuel efficient, comfortable, fastish, and inexpensive. The paper theory isn't much help here, as the car is both practical (fuel efficient, comfortable, reliable, safe, etcetera) and illogical (turbocharged, foreign, fastish, etcetera).

I'm stuck. I want the car, but it is far too practical for my car ownership history. On the other hand, I'm old enough now to appreciate the convenience and comfort.

What is your thought? Comment below and help me out.