Just over a week ago, I backed my Roadster into a pickup truck. I was backing out, somebody else was turning in at the same time, and. . . crunch. I'm sure it was mostly, if not entirely, my fault, since I got careless and didn't follow the directive that was drilled into me years ago in drivers ed: to always always ALWAYS look behind me the entire time I was backing up.
So... Not a big accident. It looked like the truck got the worst of it. I guess when carbon fiber meets steel, the weaker material gives way. However, my trunk lid got messed up. It was knocked slightly askew, carbon fiber fractured in one corner, driver's side trunk latch almost torn loose. The driver's side wouldn't release, so I couldn't get the trunk open. The passenger side wouldn't latch anymore, so the car beeped TRUNK AJAR whenever driven.
It's in the shop now. I'm hoping this won't take too long to repair, because I am really missing that car already. Before the crunch I was flying high. I was giddy. And I'd had it less than two months. Now I feel like I've been shot down to earth.
I had planned to take it to a car show this past Saturday. I had already sent in the registration form.
When I was driving around in the Roadster, and I spotted other expensive, or exotic, or even just fast-ish cars, I felt... not smug, exactly, but... contented. "Oh yeah, that's a cool one. Not that I'd trade for it, of course." No, not even for the Ferrari 458 Italia. Now I'm driving around in my Jeep, and I just sigh.
Speaking of the Jeep... It has a diesel engine. It puts out a lot of torque, and the acceleration is not bad for, you know, a behemoth. What drives me up the wall is the throttle response. When I put my foot in it, the Jeep sort of twiddles its metaphorical thumbs and thinks it over for a second or two. "Hmm, which of these eight gears do I want to use now?" Then I start wondering if I pushed down enough, so I put my foot in it a little further. Then the Jeep makes up its mind, and it surges forward. Too much! Then I lift of the gas... It's a guessing game. It's polar opposite of the Roadster, where the response is instantaneous and perfectly proportional to my inputs.
Oh, I've still got the Miata, though it's about ready to sell now. Driving it now... It sure does feel like it has a squirrel-and-treadmill under the hood. I find myself revving hell out of it, merely going to town and back, as I'm trying to wring out a bit of acceleration. And all that gear-shifting... Yeah, it has a good shifter, but still it just seems pointless after driving the Roadster for almost two months.
So... Not a big accident. It looked like the truck got the worst of it. I guess when carbon fiber meets steel, the weaker material gives way. However, my trunk lid got messed up. It was knocked slightly askew, carbon fiber fractured in one corner, driver's side trunk latch almost torn loose. The driver's side wouldn't release, so I couldn't get the trunk open. The passenger side wouldn't latch anymore, so the car beeped TRUNK AJAR whenever driven.
It's in the shop now. I'm hoping this won't take too long to repair, because I am really missing that car already. Before the crunch I was flying high. I was giddy. And I'd had it less than two months. Now I feel like I've been shot down to earth.
I had planned to take it to a car show this past Saturday. I had already sent in the registration form.
When I was driving around in the Roadster, and I spotted other expensive, or exotic, or even just fast-ish cars, I felt... not smug, exactly, but... contented. "Oh yeah, that's a cool one. Not that I'd trade for it, of course." No, not even for the Ferrari 458 Italia. Now I'm driving around in my Jeep, and I just sigh.
Speaking of the Jeep... It has a diesel engine. It puts out a lot of torque, and the acceleration is not bad for, you know, a behemoth. What drives me up the wall is the throttle response. When I put my foot in it, the Jeep sort of twiddles its metaphorical thumbs and thinks it over for a second or two. "Hmm, which of these eight gears do I want to use now?" Then I start wondering if I pushed down enough, so I put my foot in it a little further. Then the Jeep makes up its mind, and it surges forward. Too much! Then I lift of the gas... It's a guessing game. It's polar opposite of the Roadster, where the response is instantaneous and perfectly proportional to my inputs.
Oh, I've still got the Miata, though it's about ready to sell now. Driving it now... It sure does feel like it has a squirrel-and-treadmill under the hood. I find myself revving hell out of it, merely going to town and back, as I'm trying to wring out a bit of acceleration. And all that gear-shifting... Yeah, it has a good shifter, but still it just seems pointless after driving the Roadster for almost two months.