R50/53 Farley's Advice in AutoWeek
#1
03-19-2003, 03:15 PM
Join Date: Aug 2002
Location: San Francisco
Posts: 281
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
I got a chuckle out of this column in this week's (3/17/2003) AutoWeek. I don't know how long this URL will be active so I'll paste in the text of the article as well.
Let's Motor...
Advice about Advice in Autoweek (3/17/03)
*************
(08:30 March 17, 2003)
Advice about Advice
By CORY FARLEY
FARLEY’S FIRST RULE OF AUTOMOTIVE Enthusiasm is this: Never Advise Friends about Cars. They’ll ask, of course. They figure you like cars and read about them, so you’ll know what’s best.
If you protest that “best” is relative (do they want to drive two miles to work or 200 miles to Sunday brunch?), they’ll wheedle, “Tell me what I need. I won’t hold it against you.”
Two lies in the same statement: Nobody wants to hear what he needs, and if you give in, anything that goes wrong, from a blown transmission tomorrow to a blown tire at 75,000 miles, will be your fault.
I explained this to my neighbor Mike, an AutoWeek subscriber who’d never owned a car. He grew up in Manhattan, and while he’s been licensed for 20 years, he’s never bought wheels. He got around in cabs, the subway and rentals.
A job offer in Reno coincided with the birth of his first child. Mike was reluctant to leave New York, but Diana is a West Coast girl and she saw advantages in raising children where they could set foot on actual soil. In November, they moved in across the street.
Somebody told Mike there was a motorhead in the red house, and one morning he introduced himself, then immediately asked whether he should get a Yukon or an Expedition.
“Under no circumstances,” I said.
“Which one?”
“Don’t buy an SUV. You don’t need one.”
He had an Easterner’s view of the Mountain West: open spaces, coyotes, plaid shirts and four-wheel drive. We see that a lot these days.
The first obstacle was convincing him that in our climate, four-wheel drive is more fashion statement than necessity. Driving my wife’s Civic, on Blizzaks, helped with that.
The space problem was tougher. The new mother believed she needed 100 cubic feet of room for each cubic foot of Mike Jr. Sticker shock changed her mind: She hadn’t bought a car since she moved east in 1988. The decimal has jumped a digit to the right since then.
Though Mike is a theoretical car nut, he has less practical experience than the average California 16-year-old. His reference points all came from the Budget counter. My Bilstein-equipped mini-pickup had him grinning, and the Civic knocked him flat.
There was, of course, the clutch problem. Diana grew up flogging a manual-trans Tercel around Long Beach. Mike’s strictly a P-R-N-D-L guy, which is why I let him drive the Civic only once.
Gradually, I talked them down from a big SUV through a small SUV to a station wagon, which they rejected because “It’s a station wagon.” A minivan made sense, but in their eyes that’s a station wagon squared.
Mike finally set his sights on an Accord coupe. Diana imagined putting a baby seat in it and redirected him to a sedan. Either decision is impossible to fault, and I figured I was out of it.
I went out of town for a few days.
The morning after I got back, I was awakened by a revving engine and a squeak of tires. More accurately, a rrrrRRRROWWing engine and a squeak-squeak-scrREEE of tires.
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter, then went outside to admire their gleaming Liquid Yellow Mini Cooper S, and the punctuated line of rubber streaks from their driveway to mine, remnant of Mike’s adventures with his first clutch. He was beaming. Mike Jr., wedged in back like a pit in a peach, looked confused. Diana’s lips were a tight line.
“This is your fault,” she said.
*****************
_________________
Indi Blue Cooper w/ Black top & mirrors, sport seats and Prem. Pkg. Christened "Ringo".
Let's Motor...
Advice about Advice in Autoweek (3/17/03)
*************
(08:30 March 17, 2003)
Advice about Advice
By CORY FARLEY
FARLEY’S FIRST RULE OF AUTOMOTIVE Enthusiasm is this: Never Advise Friends about Cars. They’ll ask, of course. They figure you like cars and read about them, so you’ll know what’s best.
If you protest that “best” is relative (do they want to drive two miles to work or 200 miles to Sunday brunch?), they’ll wheedle, “Tell me what I need. I won’t hold it against you.”
Two lies in the same statement: Nobody wants to hear what he needs, and if you give in, anything that goes wrong, from a blown transmission tomorrow to a blown tire at 75,000 miles, will be your fault.
I explained this to my neighbor Mike, an AutoWeek subscriber who’d never owned a car. He grew up in Manhattan, and while he’s been licensed for 20 years, he’s never bought wheels. He got around in cabs, the subway and rentals.
A job offer in Reno coincided with the birth of his first child. Mike was reluctant to leave New York, but Diana is a West Coast girl and she saw advantages in raising children where they could set foot on actual soil. In November, they moved in across the street.
Somebody told Mike there was a motorhead in the red house, and one morning he introduced himself, then immediately asked whether he should get a Yukon or an Expedition.
“Under no circumstances,” I said.
“Which one?”
“Don’t buy an SUV. You don’t need one.”
He had an Easterner’s view of the Mountain West: open spaces, coyotes, plaid shirts and four-wheel drive. We see that a lot these days.
The first obstacle was convincing him that in our climate, four-wheel drive is more fashion statement than necessity. Driving my wife’s Civic, on Blizzaks, helped with that.
The space problem was tougher. The new mother believed she needed 100 cubic feet of room for each cubic foot of Mike Jr. Sticker shock changed her mind: She hadn’t bought a car since she moved east in 1988. The decimal has jumped a digit to the right since then.
Though Mike is a theoretical car nut, he has less practical experience than the average California 16-year-old. His reference points all came from the Budget counter. My Bilstein-equipped mini-pickup had him grinning, and the Civic knocked him flat.
There was, of course, the clutch problem. Diana grew up flogging a manual-trans Tercel around Long Beach. Mike’s strictly a P-R-N-D-L guy, which is why I let him drive the Civic only once.
Gradually, I talked them down from a big SUV through a small SUV to a station wagon, which they rejected because “It’s a station wagon.” A minivan made sense, but in their eyes that’s a station wagon squared.
Mike finally set his sights on an Accord coupe. Diana imagined putting a baby seat in it and redirected him to a sedan. Either decision is impossible to fault, and I figured I was out of it.
I went out of town for a few days.
The morning after I got back, I was awakened by a revving engine and a squeak of tires. More accurately, a rrrrRRRROWWing engine and a squeak-squeak-scrREEE of tires.
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter, then went outside to admire their gleaming Liquid Yellow Mini Cooper S, and the punctuated line of rubber streaks from their driveway to mine, remnant of Mike’s adventures with his first clutch. He was beaming. Mike Jr., wedged in back like a pit in a peach, looked confused. Diana’s lips were a tight line.
“This is your fault,” she said.
*****************
_________________
Indi Blue Cooper w/ Black top & mirrors, sport seats and Prem. Pkg. Christened "Ringo".
#2
03-19-2003, 03:44 PM
Banned
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: los angeles/san francisco
Posts: 2,782
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
#4
03-19-2003, 04:47 PM
2nd Gear
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: SoCal
Posts: 139
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
#5
03-19-2003, 09:59 PM
Thread
Thread Starter
Forum
Replies
Last Post
bradstyle
F55/F56 :: Hatch Talk (2014+)
4
10-01-2015 11:15 AM