Daddy's New Toy

On Wednesday I received word that the insurance company considered my dad's car totaled and planned to send him a check. After taking my dad to the body shop, I took him to the Ford dealership and told the salesman what we were looking for. I had already done my research, so I knew what we could get for the money, and more importantly, I knew what my dad really wanted. For him to be happy, his new vehicle needed to be a big American truck or SUV from the Consumer Reports' "Used Cars to Avoid" list. Even if he might prefer an Extravaganza, even he couldn't imagine why he would need anything bigger than an Explorer, which is still plenty muscular.

So far the only problems with the Explorer are its color (white, like 75% of the SUVs out there), a tendency for the radio antenna to hum in a crosswind, and a lack of things for my dad to complain about. It's big enough, it's American enough, it's comfortable, it has the right trailer hitch, and the door pockets are big enough to hold lots of junk.

Now, for my part, I'm surprised it doesn't have a locking gas flap. My Corolla, with its itty bitty gas tank has an inside fuel door release, but the Explorer, a veritable rolling Fort Knox of Fuel, has no such protection. I also wonder what the big deal about leather seats is. As a luxury extra, they're a bust. I drove from my valley, which was a balmy 92F to my dad's valley 70 miles north and ten degrees warmer. The air conditioning kept my front cool, but my back was damp when I got out of the car. Oh, well, I prefer sheepswool, and if I'm going to Pep Boys to buy a front window sunshade and a locking gas cap anyway, I'll see what they have in the way of shearling seat covers.

Perhaps I should continue to pretend it's a chore, but it's actually kind of fun driving an Urban Assault Vehicle. For one thing, it's a lot harder for SUVs to intimidate me when my car is the same size as theirs. And my dad seems to enjoy having a chauffeur.