--- I've calmed down enough to chat about the auto show we attended
with Mr. H. last Thursday night. Every year we round up the troops and
attend the auto show. Our group likes cars---we enjoy them. We lust
after them. We have fun getting in them and having our picture taken.
It's fun activity for the group. This year, however, The Doctor, has
been having a rough time adjusting her immune system to the frigid
Minnesota climate---not to mention she works at a hospital: she's been
ill more times than not this past winter. Poor Girl: this is what
happens when you move here from Southern California and because of yet
another illness--this time it robbed her of her voice---she and her
wife, ML, were not able to attend. So, it was just the three of
us---the husband, Mr. H. and myself---out in big bad downtown
Minneapolis on a school night. Oooooooh. The thrills! The chills! Downtown in the middle of the week. Woooooooooooooo.
That said, we had a blast. Ate at Copelands then meandered over to the
Convention Center and perused the fancy automobiles. Since we've always
gone on Saturdays in the past, it was quite refreshing to visit on a
weeknight: there weren't any rugrats running around; it wasn't crowded;
you could actually get up close to the really COOL cars.
In fact, I think I look rather hot in this BMW 6 series coupe.
Eh? Eh? I'm a BABE in a hot car. I RULE!
Here's what it looks like without me in it.
The thing is ALL sunroof. It's very nice inside. Just yesterday at
coffee, Mr. H. and I were chatting about how, in the past, BMW's were
all about the cramped cockpit; that there was always a lot of junk that
didn't need to be there and it crowded the passenger. I didn't think
this was the case at all with the six series. When I sat in the front
seat, I didn't feel cramped. Granted, there were a lot of buttons whose
functions might have set off a Stinger missile or
might have turned on the windshield wipers, but it was actually quite
roomy in there,and I think the sunroof had something to do with it.
Look closely at the roof in the first picture---it's like a Citroen
convertible, only instead of pushing back a soft top, you press a
window and the ceiling slides back. I enjoyed it---and not just because
it made me look good, although that factor cannot be denied when push
comes to shove. The husband is a Ford guy. His Dad is a Ford guy---they
like Ford cars. I don't get it. I tried to get into the whole Ford
thing when we first got married, but to my mind these cars were, on the
whole, forgettable junk. (He'll shoot me later for that statement, I
can guarantee it. At the very least, I'll have to listen to a lecture
about Detroit superiority.) We generally don't get a lot of concept
cars here at the Minneapolis Auto Show: we ain't Detroit or Chicago.
But, we did get this one, and the husband was enamored.
That is a Ford GT, in case you didn't know: a car they haven't had in
production for years, but brought back for a concept car. I don't get
what the big deal is. I'm sorry, baby, I just don't. I suggested the
other night that it looked like a souped-up Mazda, and the husband got
really mad at me. And I mean mad---like he was going to storm away
because I made a joke about such a thing. Whatever. It didn't ring any
bells for me. Sorry, darling. It's nothing personal. Cool your jets.
The rest of the time we meandered around the show. We hit the Porsche
display---got to sit in a Cayenne. It was still too tall for me,
although Mr. H. (Mister Six-foot-two, I might add) tried to exclude it
from my rule. You see, I refuse to own a car that is taller than I am.
I'm five-foot-six---this pretty much knocks most SUV's out of my range.
And minivans, too, but I'm not complaining one little bit. The
reasoning behind this is that I think small people, of which I am the
tallest, look ridiculous in SUV's and Minivans. Tall people---fine,
they fit. But people as short as I am or shorter? Nope. We look like
little kids behind the wheels of these vehicles. I also hate having to
jump to get into one of those vehicles. Ugh. Mr. H. seemed to think
that the Cayenne was exactly
the same height as me, and being as tall as he is, he used his tried
and true method: he laid his arm on top of my head and then extended it
to the top of the car, proving that the Cayenne is as tall as I am.
Sha. Whatever. I will say this---that Cayenne is a nice automobile.
Roomy enough in the back that Mr. H.'s knees weren't hitting anything
and he was amazed at all the room he had. The husband, of course, was
checking out the cargo capacity in the far back. He thought it was more
than adequate should we win the Powerball and suddenly be able to
afford such an automobile.
Other highlights of the evening: razzing the Hummer salesguy about how
worthless H2's are. He agreed that if you were going to spend that much
money on a fuel guzzling vehicle, you should at least get a snorkle and
metal hooks where you could airlift your big daddy onto a C-130 cargo
plane. The Volkswagen Phaeton: that is one big Volkswagen. Wow. When
it's side by side with a Passat, the difference is noticeable, in fact,
it's about as long as two Passats. The thing is huge and it's
pricey---$80K. They wouldn't let anyone in that puppy, though, unless
you were a serious buyer. The husband got to peruse and feel up the
Jaguars. He likes Jags---particularly the XJ8's, which is the hot
little V-8 convertible. Mr. H. had fun with the Saturns, of which he is
a loyal owner, and he enjoyed hopping in and out of all sorts of
trucks. Even though he just bought his LS200 last year, he thinks his
next car will have some towing capacity. And I enjoyed the imports. I
drooled over the Audis and the Mercedes and BMW's. We also had fun with
that new Envoy at the GMC stand---the one with the back door that opens
two different ways (although, when you opened it to the side, it didn't
open nearly as wide as a regular side opener would), but the sunroof
was cool and it seemed to work well.