Notes From Neal

Seen on the rear bumper of some vehicle on the commute home this evening. Note: blogger rendition of actual image.

It’s been a long week. On Tuesday, I made a rainy five hour drive to Pittsburgh, so that I could bring my son home from Carnegie Mellon later in the week. In Pittsburgh, I hopped a Southwest Airlines flight to Philadelphia to work on a database project. A colleague and I hammered out a rather complex data structure for a system we’re building, and on Thursday night, it was back on Southwest to Pittsburgh.

By the way, I can’t recommend the $10 beers nor the curt bartenders in the Philadelphia airport.

What does any of this have to do with snow?

The return trip from Pittsburgh of 300 miles, which normally takes 5 hours, took 9 hours. You see, dear reader, we drove into the jaws of the largest snowstorm in Ohio this year. Our driving speed was reduced to a maximum of 40 miles per hour, frequently moving at the rapid pace of 20 mph. In Zanesville, Ohio we spent over an hour in bumper to bumper traffic because I-70 was closed and we were routed onto National Road, US 40. The Ohio Highway Patrol reported over 610 accidents in that time period, we spotted at least 5 jack-knifed trucks, and cars spun out everywhere. Ironically one such truck was seen off the road right near the famous Hell is Real sign on Interstate 71 south of Columbus.

I drove the entire trip, given that my son just doesn’t have the experience yet in those dangerous conditions. We took frequent pit stops, mainly so that I might unwind from the stress of navigating skating rink quality, sweaty palm, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, icy highways.

As I look out my window from the warmth of my favorite living room easy chair, I see snow. White everywhere. A snow covered yard and a snow filled sky. They say a blizzard is coming.

I used to drive the freeways frequently on my morning commute to work, but for the past years that has been reduced to a ten minute drive to my office. During that thirty minute trip, I was frequently humored by what I saw in my rear view mirror, rolling down he highway at 70 miles an hour. Guys behind me staring in their mirror while shaving with a portable electric razor. Women applying mascara or other substances to their face. People combing or brushing their hair. Folks stuffing their faces with all sorts of fast food. Some reading a newspaper, magazine, or book. And of course, most yapping on the ubiquitous mobile phone.

One of the best appeared yesterday as I slowed for a traffic light on our busy local suburban four lane, stop light every tenth of a mile, highway. Being that I was in my Miata convertible with the top down, I had to restrain myself from laughing too loud or staring at this fine specimen of human behavior. Next to me is this female driver, head stuck out the window almost sideways, staring into the depths of her outside mirror. Talking loudly on her cell phone, which was cradled in her left shoulder, while using that mirror to fix her hair. How she was able to drive, I’ll never know.

While we’re on the topic of bad driver behavior, how about this familiar sight often seen on those same suburban roads? A large SUV or mini-van, the larger the better, slowly meandering down the road in the left lane. Clueless and holding up traffic behind them. Upon further review, we often discover the driver, excuse my lack of political correctness here, is female and once again yapping on that mobile telephone.

I’ve coined a term for this behavior and I call it fat butting. Fat butting refers to the posterior of the vehicle taking up so much room on the road, rather than the imagined potentially large posterior of the driver of that vehicle.

Fat butting.

Another in the list of all time great lyrics.

You’ll never find your gold on a sandy beach
You’ll never drill for oil on a city street
I know you’re looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks
But there ain’t no coupe de ville hiding at the bottom of a cracker jack box

–Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad (Meatloaf)

May in Ohio. The sun is out, the skies are blue and clear. The weather is warm and the air light with that headiness that is spring in the Midwest. Coming out of my iPod is a favorite tune from a band of my own youth; A Beautiful Morning by the Young Rascals.

A flood of pleasant memories come to me, of similar May days 39 years ago completing the final classes of my Senior year at Steubenville High School. The lightness and exuberance of youth with life in front of me, all its possibilities and potential. I was 17, finally graduating high school, with a steady girlfriend to take to the Prom, going to college, and a warm and relaxing summer in front of me.

The rest of this post is not about the regrets of a lost youth. Not at all. More like a celebration of that youthful joy and the dreams we dream.

Two weeks from this morning, on a similar bright sunny morn, my son Josh will finish the last day at his high school. He will join the Class of 2007 for a breakfast, supposedly to discuss graduation two days later, but more likely to give these teens something to do. After that final lecture of the year, the seniors will hop into cars for their traditional parade around Anderson High School. With horns honking, arms waving, and voices shouting, they will joyfully offer their final good-byes to this part of their youth. Then they will depart the school for the last time as students.

Even with tears in my eyes, all I can do is smile.

It’s a beautiful morning
I think I’ll go outside for awhile
And just smile

– A Beautiful Morning by The Young Rascals

I came across a rather interesting article on Edmunds.com, an automotive web site. The article, Confessions of a Car Salesman, goes into good detail about what happens on the sales floor of an automobile dealership.

The article is a long one, and well worth reading. It should be, as it is actually written by a journalist who went “underground” to learn about the automotive business. From the Introduction,

“ We hired Chandler Phillips, a veteran journalist, to go undercover by working at two new car dealerships in the Los Angeles area. First, he would work at a high-volume, high-pressure dealership selling Japanese cars. Then, he’d change over to a smaller car lot that sold domestic cars at “no haggle” prices.”

Besides buying a house, purchasing a car is likely the second largest purchase people make in their life. Unless of course, they purchase a vehicle like a Hummer, that is as big and costly as many houses. Regardless, it is worth it to be familiar with the tricks and traps of the business before making a purchase. It will help you make a more intelligent decision about that major purchase as well as familiarize you with the strategies often employed by car dealerships to “encourage” your purchase.

I had moved back to Ohio after a couple years of graduate school at West Virginia University, taking my first professional job in Coshocton, Ohio. As my girlfriend of the time was still working on her degree, I used to head to Morgantown immediately after work on Friday, and return from West Virginia just in time to make it to work on Monday morning.

That meant a pre-dawn departure from the comfort of my girlfriend’s warm bed through the hills of West Virginia to Interstate Route 70 going west into eastern Ohio. There was no time to tarry nor change clothing when I reached home, if I were going to make it to work on time.

After an early start one morning, driving down the freeway, reminiscing about my pleasant weekend, with the sky brightening behind me in the east, my story of the moment was being sung by The Eagles on the radio of my red Plymouth Arrow.

Six in the morning, gave me no warnin’
I had to be on my way
Now the cars are all passin’ me,
Trucks are all flashin’ me
I’m headed home from your place

And now the sun’s comin’ up
I’m ridin’ with Lady Luck
Freeway cars and trucks

Stars beginning to fade, and I lead the parade
Just a wishin’ I’d stayed a little longer
Lord, don’t you know, the feelin’s gettin’ stronger

– Ole ‘55 by The Eagles (written by Tom Waits)

Occasionally I drive my daughter to school in the morning. On my return, in front of me at the traffic light was this huge Humvee. There are several of those humongous vehicles out here in the suburbs of Cincinnati and they get me to wondering.

Why in the world would anyone want a gas guzzling, wallet emptying monster truck to navigate the wilds of suburban Cincinnati? I suppose it’s a tough trek down that long smoothly paved driveway to the shopping mall or latest and greatest new theme restaurant. Or maybe such a mighty vehicle is required to haul the designer dog to the veterinarian or that flat of flowers from the hardware store. Or just maybe, it’s just a tough world out there and a strong tough ride like a Humvee is just the thing.

When my father was alive, we’d be out driving somewhere and he’d spot one of these monsters. Being an Army vet, he’d just shake his head, wondering “why in the world would someone want to drive a jeep?”

Friday, March 9, 2007 marked three events of varying significance.

March 9 was the first day this year I’ve been able to put down my top on my Miata. The day was warm and sunny and the topless ride cleared the cobwebs from my mind. It was another reminder that Spring is nearly upon us, the long winter is over, and there will be many more topless rides in that beautiful black Miata of mine.

March 9 also marked the 32nd birthday of John Henry, the oldest living champion race horse. The grouchy old equine athlete is living out his days in comfy conditions at Kentucky Horse Park, just north of Lexington. John Henry was of humble breeding for a champion racer and had many accomplishments and awards to his name. They included:

• Oldest horse to win Horse of the Year (age 9).
• Oldest horse to win a Grade I stakes race, also at age 9.
• Inducted in the Racing Hall of Fame in 1990.
• Seven Eclipse awards
• Twice Horse of the Year
• Winner of 30 stakes races!

I saw John Henry once while at Kentucky Horse Park. They used to parade him proudly around the walking area near the Hall of Champions. All I could do is look at this proud fellow in awe. I hear they don’t show him any more, as the old guy just doesn’t enjoy people all that much.

Finally, when I was watching the simulcasts at River Downs on March 9, I was glad reminded by a couple Race Book staffers that live racing begins April 6, a mere four weeks to the day. One guy was happily awaiting the occasion to get back outside, noting that “the walls were beginning to close in.”

Two summers ago, we bought a gas-hoggin’, garage fillin’ Chrysler Town and Country mini van. I drive a Miata, so you might see how it simply towers over my beautiful convertible. But I digress…

We recently took the car to the dealer for service only to discover that the front brake pads were nearly worn away after 23,000 miles. Needless to say, despite the service rep’s comments to the contrary, I thought this was a bit of abnormal wear. My other two vehicles had their first brake jobs at 37,000 miles and 56,000 miles for the Miata.

Having expressed my concerns to the dealer, I expected this abnormal wear might be covered under warranty. “Not a chance”, I was told. Brakes are a “wear and tear” item like windshield wiper blades and tires that simply are not covered. Having continued voicing my concerns, eventually I found myself calling Chrysler Customer Service, where I worked with a very pleasant service representative named Gina.

After doing some additional research and several phone calls back to the dealer, she offered to repair the brakes, doing whatever it took to get them back in order for a nominal $25. This certainly was unexpected, yet the right thing to do. Her action was much appreciated.

So, “a tip of the hat” as they say, to Gina at Chrysler for keeping a satisfied customer. So many companies today could simply care less, acting as if they have all the customers they need. I never understood how it worked that way, I always thought it was ultimately the customers that paid your bills. At least that’s what I learned from working in my father’s clothing store for years.

One last thing about “Gina at Chrysler”. At the end of the call, I thanked her, of course. Her comment was that “it was fun” (working this out). Nice.