In Carology episode #008 there was some obscure recollection of an advertising campaign for a bank’s car loan services.

Well, I found an advertisement for the ANYCAR !!  How many distinctive car parts can you identify??

We are, “Carologists”. Yes we are and so are you!

Today there is a whole metric TON of us chatting about all things Carology! Jeffrey, Mike, Brian, Sam, Summer and Tim A. !!!! WOW!

Some of you listeners might know Samantha Roberts from Slice of SciFi, yep we’ve dragged her into sitting down and talking cars. Who would have thunk it?!?

So we are back again with another podcast delving into the mysteries that are our connection with cars and how they link us to each other. Thanks for all the calls we’ve been getting and please keep it up.

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic or get poetic about wax? Tell us YOUR car story, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

I really hope at some point you’re going to have a discussion about lane discipline. I realize that’s more about driving than about cars, specifically. But we really need to get the word out there that if you’re not moving faster than the slow lane, you should be IN the slow lane. Every nation on the planet can handle this except us.

For one thing, it’s a safety issue. The leading cause of accidents on major highways are unsafe lane changes. And lane hoppers are caused exclusively by slow people in the fast lane. There is no other casuse. All this is completely irrelevant of the speed limit, of course. Whatever speed the slow lane is doing, if you’re not moving faster, you need to be  —> over there.

Speaking of speed limits, though, I’d also like to hear an interview with James Walker of the NMA, like this one:

http://cdn4.libsyn.com/truthdriven/TDT51_2007-11-14_Speed.mp3?nvb=20090922161032&nva=20090923162032&t=07bbb108a67b3b94de240

-Chris

My name is Brian, my name is Michael and my name is Tim and we are, “Carologists”.

We are back again with the seventh podcast. Thanks for all the calls we’ve been getting and please keep it up.

Today we are back together continuing to discuss the one thing that connects us all our cars!

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic or get poetic about wax? Tell us about your favorite car, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

My name is Michael, my name is Brian and my name is Tim and we are, “Carologists”.

The sixth Carology podcast is here and we keep chuggin’ along.

Today Mike M, Brian and Tim A. are all together continue to discuss the one thing that connects us all… cars.. .or buses or trains?

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic or get poetic about wax? Tell us about your favorite car, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

My name is Michael,  my name is Michael and my name is Jeffrey and we are, “Carologists”.

The fifth Carology podcast is here and we keep chuggin’ along.

Today Mike M, Michael Stackpole and Jeffrey are all together continue to discuss the one thing that connects us all… cars!

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic or get poetic about wax? Tell us about your favorite car, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

My name is Jeffrey. My name is Brian. My name is Tim and we are, “Carologists”!

The fourth Carology podcast is here.!

This week we discover the current state of Summer’s Nissan Xterra. Many heating problems and blown head gaskets make for fun conversation.

After that, we talk about breaking down on the road, long trips and running out of gas, and how we deal with maintainance.

Jeffrey tells us more about hub caps and wheel covers. They don’t suck if you put them on dual-ies.

How much stuff has fallen off your car since you bought it? The quality of cars built today.

We continue to discuss the one thing that connects us all… cars!

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic or get poetic about wax? Tell us about your favorite car, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

This was that car for me:

I spent a lot of time and money on this cruiser.  It was a labor of love.

Yeah…  She set you back in your seat.

My name is Mike. My name is Brian. My name is Tim A. and we are, “Carologists”!

Welcome to the third Carology podcast. This episode we engage the public in dialog to discuss all things “cars” and ultimately define car culture today. Between Life and Death is the story of our lives on the Road. The study of everything else in between is “Carology”.

This week we discover the current state of the big three automakers.
Where do we go from here? What will happen to car design and how will foreign car makers capitalize on Detroit’s economic struggle?? We continue to discuss the one thing that connects us all… cars!

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic or get poetic about wax? Tell us about your favorite car, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

My name is Mike. My name is Jeffrey. My name is Tim C. and we are, “Carologists”!

Welcome to the second Carology podcast. This episode we engage the public in dialog to discuss all things “cars” and ultimately define car culture today. Between Life and Death is the story of our lives on the Road. You probably went to the hospital in your Mom’s womb riding in an ambulance – and you’ll probably cruise to your final resting place in a shiny new hearse. The study of everything else in between is “Carology”.

This week we talk about what we are currently driving and what sort of mileage they get. Joining everyone is fellow carologist Mike from Detroit to discuss the auto industry, Detroit, his first car and much more! Discover just how much fun we’re having with your participation. We continue to discuss the one thing that connects us all… cars!

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic or get poetic about wax? Tell us about your favorite car, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

My name is Mike. My name is Brian. My name is Jeffrey and we are, “Carologists”!

Welcome to the inaugural Carology podcast. This episode is the first step we’re taking to engage the public in dialog to discuss all things “cars” and ultimately define car culture today. Between Life and Death is the story of our lives on the Road. You probably went to the hospital in your Mom’s womb riding in an ambulance – and you’ll probably cruise to your final resting place in a shiny new hearse. The study of everything else in between is “Carology”.

This week we hear a couple voicemails from a fellow carologist named Gary, who poses some interesting questions including one about the trash we accumulate mile by mile. We discuss the importance of defining car culture now that the auto industry is more than a century old. Some of the first cars we’ve owned, what we drive now and what lie ahead for car companies. We also forecast some of the topics we expect to address on future podcasts and discover just how much fun we’re going to have with your participation. Its 30 minutes of laughter surrounding the one thing that connects us all… cars!

If you have a question or just want to wax poetic about your favorite car, call the Carology Voicemail at 206.350.7849.

When your car breaks down it can be anything from a minor annoyance to a major disaster. It often means inconvenience,a sizable amount of money has to be found quickly, and of course it needs to be fixed yesterday.

I’ve been on the side of the road more than once, and it’s no fun. A few suggestions to help it go smoother.

1) Can you fix it? A flat tire, burned out bulb, or a loose battery wire is often something that can be easily remedied.

2) Find somebody who can fix the car. If you are all thumbs when it comes to car repairs, or just can’t fix it without a large toolbox and a hydraulic lift, you’ll need to take it to someone. Quick thinking and having the car towed to a repair shop instead of your house, or the tow company can often amount to saving a towing bill.

3) It’s beyond repair. A fire, a broken engine, or a bad transmission can mean more money then you would like to invest in Sorcerer, Kaywinnit, or whatever you have named your vehicle. Let it go, your next great car adventure may be only one payment away.

The 11th annual PONTIAC HEAVEN coming to Speedworld Dragstrip in Wittman AZ, APRIL 4-5 2009

Gates open at 6am

Early parking for racers/show entrants and swap set up 6-8am

Show sign up 8-11am

First car down the track 9am

Parade noon

Eliminations 1pm

Exhibitions/time runs throughout the day

Swap meet all day

Sometime in the early 70s, my dad owned one, and walking up to it one day I just suddenly felt both peace and joy. I asked my dad if I could have it when I became old enough to drive, and he said yes. That was one of the happiest days I could remember.

Of course, that very car was later sold for a more “family friendly” car, and it was long gone by the time I turned 16, but the Mustang had left an unshakeable love in my heart.

Eventually I owned a 1966 Coupe, and then later the car that came closest to the car of my dreams: a 1965 Fastback. My dream car had always been the 1966 Shelby 350H (there’s something magic in that black and gold beauty), but this Fastback became my living, breathing dream.

For 8 wonderful years, whenever I felt down or in any way out of sorts, just sitting in it would bring a smile to my face. Turning over that 302-4bbl beast and roaring it down long flat desert roads made everything bad in the world melt away, even if it was only for a short while. I even realized another dream by getting a picture taken of it posed with a P51-D Mustang… one of the last times before those old planes were moved out of Arizona.

I don’t own that car anymore… it was a show quality street car, and someone else far away now owns it, but I can’t help smiling whenever I see another ‘65 or ‘66 running down these desert roads.

Someday I’ll own another one, but for now, I have my memories and my dreams.

I’m not going to talk about my first car though, because lately that’s not what I think about or miss when I’m thinking about cars now. With the bailouts and reorganizing of the big three in the US my thoughts aren’t on the one car I learned to drive on, but the cars I’ve driven since then. I’ve own a few cars in my life, three of them were Saturns. I owned a ‘91 SL1 that was won at a police auction after being found submerged in sea water. I’ve had a ‘00 SL2 and lastly my ‘03 ION which still drives like a dream and keeps me happy. When people ask me how do I like driving a Saturn I tell them “I Love it!” (yes that was one of the original Saturn slogans, but it’s true) These cars were built for me. They are inexpensive and perfect for my budget, they have enough power to not suck and the maintenance is almost nil. I don’t have to worry about fancy gas or hundred dollar oil changes. Most of my belts are chains and it can take a beating. The Manual shifting is forgiving (can start her up in 3rd for pete’s sake) and its great to use to teach people how to drive stick. Everything is in the right place for me. The head clearance is great, the seats are perfect for my height, the wipers are in the right place, everything is where I want it. Trust me, this is all very important when you generally drive 18+ hour road trips monthly. I don’t care if it’s not someone else’s cup of tea, it fits me.

A year ago I made the decision to keep my current car and not trade up to a new Aura. I could have gotten a good deal and would have had a bit more in the car then I have now. Except here’s the thing, in the last 10 years, 9 of them I have been making car payments. Low, easy to afford but still a monthly payment. I had the opportunity to own my car outright, not having to pay GMAC every month. That was far too tempting to pass up, so I passed on the Aura. Now with the reorganization of GM my beloved Saturn company is getting shut down. The ‘10 or ‘11 will be the last models of Saturn made, after that Saturn dealers will sell other brands and no longer produce. My different kind of car company is dead! I know there was the threat from day one but I never wanted or thought this day would happen. The next time I go to buy a car I don’t know what I’ll want. I’ll never have the “fits me like a glove” feel again. Sure I like other kinds of cars, but they never fit me as well as a Saturn. For 14K I won’t get a car with everything I need, I will either have to settle for something below my standards or have to pay more then I want to for a car. The Saturn brand is dead, or will be in two years and already I am mourning it. I’m sad the experiment didn’t survive this economy, I’m sad GM isn’t even looking to sell the brand like they will with Saab and Range Rover.

I will now be ignored by car makers and told what I want rather then asked what I want. I know it’s silly to get upset over something like this but it’s the same as when Firefly was canceled for reality programing, or when movies are ruined because the studios want to appeal to the 14 year old girls. I’m not the mainstream, or what the big wigs think is mainstream so I am ignored. Meanwhile if those big wigs paid attention to the niche markets and cultivated our interest and loyalty they would always make money. Examples? Look at Hot Topic, also known as the Walmart of alternative fashion, it’s far from main stream but makes money hand over fist. Look at Dr. Horrible, produced for fans and sold more then anyone ever imagined simply to prove a business model. If you make the little people feel important, we will spend our dollars on you.

Rest in Peace my beloved Saturn Company. I will drive this ION till she can’t move anymore.

Maybe it’s a bad case of nostalgia; or maybe it’s the fact that my kids are getting older; or maybe it’s because I can’t afford the gas to drive to the edge of town. Whatever the reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about road trips lately.

A road trip is an express ticket out of your rut. Back home you may be bored with the routine. You know every local McDonald’s and Walmart and Radio Shack inside and out. A trip to a new town will expose you to new and exciting venues. Like when your employer goes looking for a new CEO, a road trip is positively stuffed with promises.

Of course, when you arrive, you’ll find the new McDonald’s is pretty much like the old one; a “nice” Walmart is still a Walmart; and the inside of one Radio Shack is much like another. Arriving at the end of the trip is a lot like the day a new CEO takes over and you realize the only thing that’ll change is the name on the company letterhead.

A road trip isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey.

Really.

It’s about spending several hours trapped with your loved ones in a cramped, noisy space while scenery rolls by unnoticed and you try desperately to remember the lyrics of songs you loved in your youth.

Just a small town girl,
Living in a homely world,
One night she clogged up her drain,
It went everywheeerre…

Misremembering the lyrics to a song is a great way to start one of the most popular driving games of all time … license plate bingo.

Not really.

The popular game I’m thinking about is arguing loudly and at length with everyone else in the car about something so pointless that the only reason you could possibly care is that arguing gives you something to do. (The same principle underlies most congressional filibusters and corporate board meetings.) Over the years I’ve held steadfastly to completely irrational positions on the environment, placement of furniture in our living room (even though we were five hundred miles away from it at the time), and the route we were taking.

The issue of which route to take is particularly contentious because my wife and I have very different views on the proper use of a map. I believe that a map is an effective (if low tech) way to plot the fastest route from point A to point B. My wife believes a map is an effective (if low tech) way to identify five or six scenic side trips.

On one trip through Nevada, she directed me off of the main highway with the intent of taking the scenic trail north through the Valley of Fire.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, peering at the map. The “road” she wanted us to follow looked more like a printing error or maybe a coffee stain.

“It’ll be fun,” she insisted.

Two hours later we had lost sight of the highway and had come to the realization that the Valley of Fire was just a bunch of colored rocks. We also realized that nobody came out this way much … including the guys who put up road signs. Unmarked intersections outnumbered marked intersections by a ratio of infinity to none and I started to worry about our supplies of gas, food and water.

Actually, food was the least of our problems. Following the tradition of decades of American road trips, we had packed several hundred pounds of junk food “for the trip” with the intent of transferring it to our waistlines one bite at a time. If it was possible to survive on cartoon character fruit snacks, beef jerky, and Cheetos, we were set for weeks.

Of course, we didn’t die. Despite my frequently-voiced concerns that we were hopelessly lost, my wife assured me that she knew exactly where we were. To prove her point, she jabbed her finger at a section of the map which looked like every other section of the map. I kept complaining, she kept pointing, and eventually we found ourselves back at the freeway.

Whereupon I switched from complaining to sulking and she went straight into a mild gloat.

That whole misadventure was only possible because we were traveling in the days before GPS navigation. Today we’ve given up maps and trust our lives to a device the size of gerbil, but only about half as smart. Getting somewhere is a matter of doing what the computer says.

That is, if you can actually figure out how to program your GPS. According to the instructions, setting a destination is as simple as; selecting ‘Destination’ from the main menu; scrolling through the continent list; selecting the appropriate region, state, or province; identifying a city using the on-screen QWERTY keyboard; scrolling through a list of streets; selecting the address which most closely matches your desired destination; and deciding if you want the fastest or shortest route. This is mostly to keep you busy while the GPS plots ways to fool you into driving as far as possible out of your way.

My parents own a GPS navigation unit which appears to be programmed with some advanced form of artificial stupidity. No matter what their origin or destination, it wants to take them through Montana. Utah to Wyoming? Drive to Montana and turn southeast. Texas to Florida? Drive northwest to Montana and then head southeast. California to Hawaii? Straight through Montana. If they try driving any way except through Montana, the GPS lady gets very cross and scolds them and tells them to “turn left now”. Eventually, for the sake of peace, they break down and throw the GPS out of the window.

Which, of course, misses the point. The point of a road trip is the trip and the GPS is just trying to prolong that. After all, if you don’t spend enough time on the road you’ll never remember the lyrics to that song.

Kevin Cummings is a husband, father, middle-manager, writer, podcaster … I’ve got it all! Each week I produce a brand new humor essay. You can read them on his site or listen to them in audio form at his podcast site.

This YouTube video highlights how the Volvo XC60 takes hills.

The things that did matter don’t belong to the car itself as much as to the era, and the man who drove it. Like his car, my grandfather was solid, conservative, and, yes, old, but he managed to make every trip an adventure, and in the process some indelible memories were printed on my brain:

• Sand in the seats: The upholstery was a sort of rip-stop nylon cloth, with stitched ridges that always captured sand. In any other car, it might have been itchy, but in this car it was part of the charm. This was a car that knew the beach, that wasn’t afraid to hold two or three giggling children and their grandmothers, and a cooler with tuna sandwiches and paper napkins equally chilled to perfection. (Chilled paper napkins feel like bliss against sunburned skin.)

• Fishing tackle in the glove box: As the only one of my cousins to spend any great amounts of time with my grandfather, I was the one who went out to the fishermen’s pier and sat on the tackle box, and brought blue fish home for supper. We had matching hats, though he’d cut a hole in mine for my strawberry-blonde pony-tail to poke through. They say fishing is boring, and it might be, if you’re doing it in a lake, but sitting there watching the sailboats come in and out of the harbor, smelling the salt and tar, I was never bored.

• Napkins stolen from Carvel. Carvel is an east coast thing. It’s soft serve ice cream, like Dairy Queen, but better because it comes in vanilla AND chocolate. There’s nothing like sitting in the wide front seat of the old Dodge on a rainy summer day, licking a chocolate ice cream cone (with sprinkles) and watching the windshield wipers swish back and forth.

• Root beer floats. The highway back to Middletown from Sandy Hook has one of the most delightful places on earth: Stewarts. Yes, the very same people that supply the root beer to Cracker Barrel. It’s a true drive in, with trays that clip to the windows, except that the root beer comes in frosted glass mugs, and the fries are crinkle cut, and served in cardboard boats.

• Audible blinkers. The clicking of the turn-signal when it flashed is, to this day, my mental metronome. Regular, with a hint of metal and the ghost of an echo. I never minded when we’d get stuck at the red light by the train tracks coming home from riding camp, because it meant I got to let that steady sound lull me into a restful state that ended the moment we pulled into my grandfather’s gravel driveway.

I don’t remember what happened to that old Dodge. One summer when they met me at the airport my grandfather was driving a station wagon instead, and while the wagon was newer, and more comfortable, it never quite had the magic of the brown car he’d called Lizzie Jane.

Or maybe, just maybe, the real loss of magic was in the fact that I was growing beyond childhood flights of fancy, and the healthy appreciation for crinkle-cut fries and sandy seats.

In college, I was dormbound a lot as I still had no car and didn’t know how to drive. Forget the bus. It took me two hours by bus to get to a mall only ten minutes away. My roommate had a truck and I had friends with cars, so transportation was never an issue. Vanessa’s truck was roomy but cozy and I admired her monogrammed dashboard cover. We listened to a lot of Rascal Flatts. Dakota had a charming bobblehead alligator named Rodrigo on her dashboard and a patch of deer fur stuck in her passenger door from an unfortunate run-in. I believe the deer survived. The passenger door, however, was never the same. Alex’s car overheated a lot, but was always there when we needed to make a trip to Target or the ice cream parlor. Road trips were a novelty for me. It always amazed me that just three hours away was another state. We drove from Texas to Florida one spring break–simply unbelievable to a girl who grew up surrounded by ocean.

Upon graduation, I moved to Los Angeles, a city renowned for its twisty highways and bumper-to-bumper traffic. I knew I needed a car. I had gotten my driver’s license before graduating, so the only problem was the car. My dad flew up with me so that he could help me with apartment and car hunting. He found a car at a used car dealership online. And there she was, a shiny 2000 Toyota Corolla. Even though it was going to be my car, I was so nervous that my dad test drove it. I sat in the passenger seat. Before I knew it, I was writing a check that practically cleared out my savings account and we were off, back to the hotel. Dad took the rental car, which meant I actually had to drive my car now. I was terrified, tailing my dad and driving cautiously on the foreign highways. Our hotel was only 15 minutes away, but the adrenaline was pumping and even though it was daytime, I felt like I was driving with blindfolds on. We stopped at a gas station and I was so proud to be pumping my own gas and paying for it.

That’s how I came to own Kaywinnit. I named her for the cheerful mechanic from “Firefly,” a series I love. Kaylee took pride in Serenity and believed in all the ship could do. Like Serenity, Kaywinnit wasn’t the flashiest car, but she got me where I needed to go. She’s my little engine that could.

The car is falling apart. If I go between 55 and 65 mph the whole thing shakes. Pieces fall off like door handles and the pieces around the doors. The paint looks terrible. I’ve seriously considered spray painting a Superman sheild on the hood. It still runs though, and I used it all the way through college.

It’s been in a couple accidents, but hasn’t been fixed cause it wasn’t worth it. I always say that the dents just give it more character. It’ll be weird when I finally get a new car. I’m sure I’ll be so afraid of scratching it after not caring for so long. It has really been a good, dependable car and I’ll always remember what my first car was.

I was watching the CW television show — Supernatural. There she was on my TV. A ‘67 Chevy Impala. Gorgeous, sleek, every bit a star as her co-stars. I hadn’t even known what a Impala was before this series on TV, but I became an avid trivia buff about everything Impala.

It’s easy now to understand why I love her so much. Dean, one of the show’s main characters, adores his car. He takes care of it as if it were a person (up to calling it “baby” and worrying if people have “hurt” her). Since the show primarily takes place on the road the main character’s mode of transportation is extremely important.

In one episode the car is totaled, with our main characters inside. I was grief-struck and I realized my horror had more to do with the Impala’s fate than the main characters!

Now, again, I’m a girl. I don’t think of myself as a car buff, or a classic car buff, or even a “car girl”. But here I was worrid about a car! On my TV!

Thankfully she came through even better than before, and still graces my TV. Here’s to Supernatural’s ‘67 Chevy Impala for making me fall in love with a car.