Good Stuff About Using Cars.com

The dealer in question begged me to buy from him. He knew that I wasn’t trapped in his showroom and could search for 10 billion other cars in a keystroke.

The dealer did a no-see-it appraisal of my 350Z and gave me above the Edmunds price for it. There was no list of items wrongs, no haggling about how damaged the paint was, etc. I wasn’t without a car while it was being inspected, held hostage at a dealership.

The dealership delivered to my office. Well, delivered to the Hooters restaurant across the street from my military-industrial complex. I bought the delivery guy a beer.

There was no pacing, waiting, anxiousness, or anger about the money as I was happily ensconced in my own chair the entire time we discussed finances.

It was easier to say “no deal” when I wasn’t being pressured in the dealership. That $699 Dealer Prep Fee that I loathed probably would have made it into the deal had I not had the option of just /clicking off the phone.

BMWs have a 4 year / 50,000 miles transferable warranty and maintenance plan. The warranty follows the vehichle’s VIN, not the original owner. If I sell this car tomorrow, I can advertise that it has 12,000 miles and two years of warranty remaining. If something goes wrong, I take it back to my local BMW dealer and they have to do the work. This includes the often-failing High-Pressure Fuel Pump about which so much has been written. Yes, my oil changes are covered, as is everything else…. except tires.

Bad Stuff About Using Cars.com

There is a problem with the left-front tire and it’s going to need to be replaced. Some pothole out there is cackling that it won a battle with an 18″ run-flat. I would’ve seen this damage during a visual inspection of the car before I bought it and demanded to be compensated. (And yes, I’m replacing all four tires with summer performance tires, not run-flats.)

Since I couldn’t test-drive the car beforehand, I had to invade my local BMW dealer and test-drive one of their cars, and it wasn’t even exactly the model I ended up buying. Buying a car over the Internet doesn’t necessarily relieve you of the need to visit dealerships.

The description of the car on Cars.com was in a format that made doing research very hard. It’s a huge block of text: no paragraphs, no bullets, no organization. I saw pictures of a hands-free system in the steering wheel but didn’t see the actual words “hands-free phone” in the description. I assumed that it was just left out, but it wasn’t; the car has the buttons but not the system.

When I asked, “Does the audio system connect to an iPod,” the salesman said yes. I assumed that meant the car had a USB connection. It doesn’t; it has an aux-in port. Again, a visual inspection would’ve eliminated the post-delivery surprise of the lack of USB port.

The standard BMW stereo is, in a word, “The worst example of cheap paper-speakers ever produced since the invention of the human ear drum.” A trip to the custom audio store — NOT Best Buy — will be on my short to-do list.

The dealership is over 150 miles away. If something goes wrong with the car, I really am not going to boogie down there, so they are safe from my possible spittle-shrieking wrath.

The Elune-Blessed Awesome

Jeremy Clarkson not withstanding, I love this car. No, it’s not as track-ready as my 350Z was. No, it’s not as track-ready as a 135i coupe or 370Z would be. No, there’s not as much rear-seat room as a used BMW 330i sedan would have. But I love this car.

My boy in the back seat, lowering the top for the first time, shrieking in delight.

My boy in the back seat, puttering around at 45mph and not having to strain or turn my head to hear him laughing.

My boy in the back seat, his hands in the air like he was riding a roller coaster, screaming that I’m the best dad in the whole world.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

The Good, The Bad, and The Elune-Blessed Awesome

As many of you know, I drive a 2005 Nissan 350Z. It’s a two-seater and for many years it fulfilled all my needs:

• Carry my son and me
• Very occasionally carry the 100lb Puppy of Love to the vet
• Make me feel like a Formula 1 race car driver on a daily basis
• Have a manual transmission, or a dual-clutch with flappy-paddle shifters
• Cost less than $25,000

Well the time has come to do something with this thing, as I need room for more than two people at once now. So I’ve been car-shopping for… oh, two years or so. I don’t like to rush these things.

Yesterday I went to the BMW dealer to see if they had a good deal on a used 128i coupe. And on the showroom floor, they had a beautiful white one with a sunroof and a manual transmission. So I made “vvvrrrrooom!” noises in the drivers seat, which caused a little commotion and resulted in a salesman approaching.

“Hello, welcome to WayOverPriced BMW. How do you like this little car?”

“I HATE IT. IT’S CRAP.”

“Well, we have other cars…”

“CAN I TAKE IT FOR A TEST DRIVE?”

“Well it’s raining out and it’s cleaned for the showroom floor…”

“WELL IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SELL CARS, I SUPPOSE I CAN GET A FREE BOTTLE OF WATER AND BOOGIE ON DOWN TO THE FORD DEALER TO LOOK AT 5.0 MUSTANGS. SEE YA, WOULDN’T WANT TO BE YA.”

“Oh no sir, just a moment. Let me get a helper to unlock the side doors and we can take this out…”

“WELL THAT’S DAMN FINE AND NEIGHBORLY OF YOU. LET’S SEE WHAT THIS LITTLE BOTTLE ROCKET CAN DO. DID I TELL YOU THAT I’VE DRIVEN ON FIVE CONTINENTS? YOU EVER DRIVE TO MECCA? I GOT TO THE OUTSKIRTS BEFORE BEING WAVED AWAY BY THE RELIGIOUS POLICE. SCARED ME SO BAD I GOT A 3 1/2 TON HALF-TRACK DOING 110 MPH. YOU THINK WE CAN BUST THAT ON I-4?”

(OK, I didn’t say that, but I did get close to Mecca before being threatened with jail.)

So I put that little car through its paces and came away very impressed. It scooted, was well put together, and would seat me plus three kids!

…

OK, so not three kids on a trip to America’s national parks, no. But to the grocery store or the mall, yes. We’ve got the requisite Truck That Will Haul The Moon if necessary for anything more, but I need to be able to take two kids, and not with one lying down in the back of my Z.

But back to the dealership.

“SO HOW MUCH IS THIS LITTLE THING? IT’S ALMOST TWO YEARS OLD, IT’S A BASE MODEL, IT’S A MANUAL AND MOST FLORIDANS HATE THOSE, SO YOU’RE GOING TO PAY ME TO TAKE IT OFF YOUR LOT, RIGHT?”

“It’s $44,000.”

…

“Will that be cash, or are you one of those scum-sucking pieces of the Working Class that needs… how do I say it… financing?”

…

“That car, new, was $52,000, so you’re getting a really good deal.”

“A GOOD DEAL?!? ONLINE I CAN GET A NEW ONE FOR $28,000!”

“Yes, but this has upgrades. Like for instance, the base model doesn’t have Bluetooth, an iPhone port, dual-zone A/C, leather seats, a steering wheel, brakes, or wheels for that matter.”

“I’m feeling meeker by the moment…”

“In order to actually drive one of these cars off the lot, you’re looking at mid-40s without blinking.”

“I think I’ll…”

“Yes? Give me your Visa number?”

“I think I’ll go raid your refrigerator, grab a water bottle, slap it down in front of you, and ask you to take a GREAT BIG TALL FROSTY GLASS OF SHUT-UP JUICE!”

And with my head held high, I sauntered out of the BMW dealership with as much pride as was possible with the salesmen, clientele, and janitors laughing at me.

I stewed.

I simmered.

I did more research.

Dang it, there just isn’t a car I like that I need and that I can afford.

/research, research, research

/leave a bad review of the BMW dealership on Edmunds.com

And then it happened.

I did a search for used BMW 1-series within 150-miles of my house, costing less than $25,000. And one popped up.

/bing!

“It’s gonna be a stripped 128i with no A/C, seats, or floorpan, right?”

* 2008 BMW 135i, 6-speed manual, convertible.

Oh?

* One owner, clean CarFax

Oh ho?

* M-Sport package, gray with black interior

Oh really?

* For sale at an American-car dealership, so we want to get rid of this thing because it’s mocking the Mustangs.

Yeah, that’s what I’d do if I were a BMW stuck among Fiestas

So I filled out the form and sent an email.

/pondered the picture

/ring!

“Hallo?”

“DEAR JEEBUS BUY THIS CAR FROM US! WE’LL GIVE YOU A BUTTLOAD OF CASH FOR YOUR TRADE, WE’LL DELIVER IT TO YOUR DOOR, WE’LL GET YOU GREAT FINANCING, WE’LL ERECT A STATUE IN YOUR HONOR AND FESTOON IT WITH BABY CARROTS AND BEETS!”

“Send me the particulars, cochise.”

And I got the numbers in an email.

/ring!

“WHAT DO YA THINK YOU WANNA BUY IT TODAY?”

“What’s this Dealer Prep Fee for $699?”

“IT’S STANDARD.”

“I’m not paying it.”

“LOOK EVERYBODY PAYS IT. I HAD TO PAY IT.”

“No deal, Sitting Bull.”

/click

/gets back to work, troubleshooting .NET installations

/ring!

“Yell-lo?”

“This is the sales manager at The American Car Dealership. I understand there’s a problem with your deal?”

“You betchur bippy. Sales price is good, trade-in is good. Interest rate is good. My down-payment is good. But this extra $699 is no-good. It’s gonna go or I am.”

“Well, sir, everybody has to pay for the documents and stamps…”

“Not at $250 an hour they don’t. Who are these paper-pushers, triple PhDs in Inkology? Bury the dealer-prep fee or I’ll make like Khrushchev and bury you.”

/click

I hate .NET. And Java. Let me tell you why…

/ring!

“Bring it!”

“This is the general sales manager for all cars at The American Car Dealership. I report directly to the owner. I can do anything I want here, EXCEPT get rid of the Dealer Prep fee. That goes right into the owner’s pocket.”

“I know that for a fact, which is exactly why I won’t pay it, ya stinkin’ commie.”

“How about we work together a little bit. I’ll drop the sales price by $200 if we can leave the Dealer Prep Fee in the deal.”

“You’re spitting lemon seeds; now move on to spouting lemonade.”

“The car is $6000 under Edmunds already! Fine. I’ll drop it by $350. That’s halfway.”

“You’re a sick bastard, but I’ll take the car. Have a flunky drive it here, I’ll sign the papers, and he can drive my 350Z back to you.”

“But you’re three hours away…”

“Pronto, skippy! And make sure he fills it up before he hands it over to me.”

/click

And about 24 hours later…

I have a family car. Yay for being a full-time Daddy with a Boy.

2008 BMW 135i convertible. Dual-turbo inline 6-cylinder engine making 300hp and 300lb*ft of torque. Six-speed manual transmission. Sports Package. 0-60 in “oh-my-lord-I’m-doing 110!”

It just screams “Kid Hauler” doesn’t it.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Moving Up to a Family Car

“Halp. My clutch is slipping, occasionally grinding gears, and the clutch pedal will quit recovering from being depressed after 20 minutes of driving.”

“Let’s look at it. How many miles on the car?”

“132,000.”

“Is this your, like, 4th clutch replacement?”

“No. It’s the original.”

“132,000 miles on the original clutch?”

“If you know how to drive a manual, you won’t burn the stupid thing out like those kids on the 350Z forums do every 20,000 miles.”

“Word.”

/repair guy putters around in my car

“Dude. Your clutch is not quite shot, but it’s shooting. It’s hydraulic; no mechanical linkage. The entire shebang has to go.”

“I’m getting shebanged?”

“The full shebang.”

“Should I give you my son’s college fund now or after you’re done?”

“Parts plus labor is $1006.”

“Now, then.”

“When do you want to do this?”

“I need to think and do some research. I don’t drop a lot of money without serious reflection, prayers, and an offering of a burnt $2 bill to the spirit of Andrew Carnegie.”

“Foshizzle.”

/putters to his local Nissan dealer

“Halp. My clutch is slipping, occasionally grinding gears, and the clutch pedal will quit recovering from being depressed after 20 minutes of driving.”

“Do you drive fast?”

“I own a 350Z with a 6-speed manual.”

“That’s a yes, then. Gimme $50.”

“Fifty bucks?”

“Yes. $50 to diagnose your problem, but it’s applied to your total repair bill.”

“But I just diagnosed the problem; my clutch needs halp.”

“No, you just told me what’s wrong. I need to find what’s causing it.”

“The clutch is causing it. Now give me $50.”

“What?”

“I just diagnosed the problem for you. That’ll be $50.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me. How much. You’re going to charge me. For putting. A new clutch. Assembly. In. My car.”

/he slaps the keyboard of his amber-screen IBM CMP mainframe terminal

“$1160 for the clutch parts and labor, but if we see the flywheel is damaged, it cannot be re-tapered so that’ll be another $1100 to replace that.”

“You can’t machine a flywheel here?”

“Not on a 350Z. They are tapered, not flat.”

“Well I don’t want you to take an angle grinder to the flywheel and turn it into a pizza dish, but surely you can machine the teeth on a flywheel if they’re not damaged.”

“Nope. $1100.”

“Well I need to think about this.”

“Certainly take all the time… hey where are you going?”

/slams car door

/uses the last breath of the clutch to grab some wheel-spin out of the dealer and back to my local repair guy

“HEY!”

“Yes?”

“Can you machine the teeth on my flywheel if necessary?”

“As long as a rivet hasn’t destroyed the teeth, of course.”

“Is that included in my clutch replacement estimate?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s do this thing.”

“But instead of re-tapering the flywheel, we can put a lightweight flywheel in there. Better acceleration, lighter mass, faster car, and now would be the perfect time to do it since the tranny is going to be fully dropped.”

“My answer is an unwavering no.”

“Lightweight aluminum racing flywheel would cost $750, no extra labor since we wouldn’t be messing with your current flywheel.”

“You cannot overcome the power of my no.”

“And then…”

“No! Just re-taper my original, please.”

“But…”

“No. And no pouting.”

“How about tomorrow we do this? Drop the car off at 7am, we’ll have it done by 5pm.”

“It’s really going to take that long?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. See you tomorrow.”

/putters to pick up the girlfriend and all the kids, heads to the other side of Orlando to walk, shop, and eat in the 70-degree Orlando winter

RINGRINGRINGRING!!

“Hallo?”

“Hello, this is the auto repair shop. Um… any chance you want to bring in your car now and get the work done?”

“But it’s 2pm.”

“Yes.”

“And you said that this is an all-day job.”

“Well I had a cancellation and my guy is willing to stay and work on your car if you can get it in.”

“It’s going to take me an hour to get there. Still up for it?”

“Yes please!”

“And of course you’re going to cut my labor costs in half.”

“What? Labor in half?”

“Yes, half. You told me that this was an all day job. Now you’re saying you can do it in three hours before you close. You were going to charge me up the wazzoo for labor tomorrow, but since you’re only going to be working on my car for three hours today, I just know I’m going to get a massive savings.”

/repair guys starts quoting Einstein and Hawking, explaining how time flows differently in an auto-repair garage, and that as a result, my labor fee isn’t going to change

“WHATEVER! I’ll be there.”

/putters to car repair

/gets clutch assembly changed

/gets car back

/takes car out, the clutch feels great

/twenty minutes of driving later, the pedal refuses to come back from a fully depressed position

“OH COME ON! They didn’t fill and bleed my clutch fluid?!”

/and my Sirius satellite radio doesn’t work anymore, either

P.S. The problem with the radio was that the battery was disconnected and reconnected while in the confines of the garage, thus preventing the radio from receiving start-up commands from the Sirius satellite network. Putting the car in an outdoor parking lot, disconnecting the radio’s fuse for a few minutes, replacing the fuse, turning the stereo back on, then letting the update proceed solved that problem. But my clutch pedal…

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

It’s Nice Being Able To Write Again

More specifically, I’m a car-shopping-holic. I’ve been shopping for a new car for three years or more.

I purchased my 2005 Nissan 350Z over five and a half years ago, it has 132,000 miles, I just replaced the clutch assembly, and I’m worried that it’s getting time to replace the whole car before the maintenance costs become as ugly as car payments. So I’m really shopping now.

Cars I Want But Cannot Have:

Nissan 370Z – No back seat. I cannot justify owning a two-seat car any longer.

Audi TTS – Ridiculously overpriced four-cylinder engine with a useless back seat.

BMW 335i Coupe – Ridiculously overpriced badge and what the (bleep) happened to their design department?

Mustang GT 5.0 – There are thirty people who live in my area, and one hundred twenty of them own Mustangs.

Porsche 911 – Mucho Dinero, and I’d prefer the Caymen, which of course doesn’t have a back seat.

Chevy Camaro – I don’t want Bumblebee.

Dodge Challenger/Charger/Compactor/C-whatever – Ugh. Double ugh with a side of ugh.

Mercedes CL550 – $113,00 to own an MB coupe? Honestly?

Cadillac CTS – It’s… and it’s… but didn’t it… it’s a Cadillac for jeebus’s sake! I can’t drive a Cadillac!

Can I?

Well, I guess I should test drive it. And I did, and here’s what I thought.

Massey Cadillac was the host for my test drive. The salesman was polite, kind, direct and yet reserved. He was not 100% as knowledgeable as he should have been, but at least he didn’t out-n-out lie to me. Very posh dealership, great waiting area, lots and lots of cars indoors in which to sit and touch.

In Orlando, an indoor showroom is a must. One cannot run around a giant, freshly blacktopped parking lot for an hour in the central Florida heat and humidity. The Ford dealership near me has zero cars in the showroom, and I’ll never visit them again.

I got behind the wheel of a 2011 black-on-black CTS coupe. $38,000.

The V-6 was excellent. Nice sound, good acceleration, never lacked power.

The brakes didn’t complain when I abused them, the traction control didn’t allow me to power-slide once. I complained bitterly.

On-Star, Bluetooth, dual-zone climate controls, XM radio, full leather. All nice.

No navigation unit? Almost $40 Large and no $100 Garmin? Fail.

The seats, frankly, are awful. No lateral support at all. As I did my turns, I had to hold onto the wheel or risk being thrown into the salesman next to me. There are better seats if I chuck $50,000 at them, but I deserve better than basically a small leather bench seat in this thing.

But the worst transgression of all is the slushbox automatic. My 350Z has a beautiful 6-speed manual and that’s how I roll. The Audi TTS has a dual-clutch automatic with paddle-shifters, and having driven that, I have a new appreciation for how good an automatic can get. But this Cadillac’s six-speed auto was horrible. It was always in the wrong gear, at least one if not two gears too high. It has a manual-mode, but the shifts are just too slow, and if I have my hand on a shift-level, I want a clutch as well.

I got to see the CTS-V with the Supercharger, the better seats, and the manual transmission. $68,000 and that’s a big No.

But the car I could afford, would I? For $28,000 yes I would. then I’d replace the seats and learn to make the most of the automatic. But for $38K I want all my needs met. That means a manual or a dual-clutch automatic and excellent seats.

The hunt continues…

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

I lost a very, very good friend. Not as in lost-lost, or “I left her at Macy’s by accident” lost, but just lost. I hope she’s going to be OK, I miss her a ton.

If you are up north and are experiencing single-digit temperatures, I feel for you. But for us cold-blooded creatures in the south, temps in the 30s are worse because we have no reason to be used to it. Don’t mock me for my four layers of clothing or double-electric blankets, (only one of which is plugged it,) or wearing my lined leather jacket at the office. Yes it’s colder where you are, yes you have snow, yes you live in Chicago for some unknown reason, but you just don’t understand what we Floridians feel like right now. You just don’t.

I have the coolest iPhone case ever. The tall blonde at the restaurant yesterday confirmed it. Yes it’s a red crocodile-leather case. I like both the color and the texture. It’s wicked-cool, and hot college-aged women agree with me.

My one year of being “single” is approaching and while the loneliness is difficult, at least the pain of being alone with someone in the house is gone.

I have invited a friend down to visit for a weekend. I hope she can make it.

The more time I spend at Starbucks, the easier it is to laugh at people who need 42 adjectives to order their coffee. “Tall mocha” or “tall raspberry latte”, foshizzle.

The 100lb Puppy of Love has a fatty deposit in his left armpit that requires removal. It is not dangerous, but it will interfere with his walking. I can take my son to the doctor for shots and be brave for him, but when a vet touches my dog, I cry and sniffle. I’m getting teary just thinking about him having surgery.

My mean cat, Bisky Boodle, does not understand why I’m not taking pictures of her anymore. She’d me mad if I was, but is also mad that I’m not. Frankly, there’s just no winning with her and I quit trying years ago. If I am lying on the couch, she will hop up, but her face next to mine and say, “I am going to lie next to you, see? Don’t touch me. Don’t coo at me. Don’t call me cute names. Don’t move. I am here because I am sure it is an inconvenience for you, that’s all.”

I have no desire to make stuffed mushrooms anymore. My lemon chicken with carrots, celery, and bamboo shoots was an unmitigated disaster. I think my cooking is suffering because of my lost friend.

All the Christmas decorations are put away. It is both sad and cleansing, I think.

No, I am not going to join eHarmony or Match or anything else.

I totally scored at fixing my attorney’s computer over the holidays. I used to get a text or call every other day about a crash or lockup, but nothing at all this year. Extra RAM and a stay-awake program solved his problems.

The fungus in the 100lb Puppy of Love’s ears has been eradicated. We got through the weekend of peeing every three hours due to the medication, daily cleaning, and twice-daily ear drops. Does anything feel better than taking care of someone that looks into your eyes with total trust and love?

One of my friends who is right about everything, all the time, is gonna be wrong this time, I just know it.

Cub Scouts meeting this week means I get to hang out with parents. There is a mom there, married, who is very pretty and kind. It’s fun just to be around her because she and I are able to talk. We made pipe-cleaner candy canes together before Christmas while our kids brought us supplies. It was the fastest hour-long scout-meeting ever.

I need a new/used vehicle with a back seat, I know this. But my race car is almost paid off and the thought of no car payment is intoxicating. I hate purchasing used cars as the thought of car-repairs sickens me, but any new car is so expensive and such a depreciating investment. A used Porsche 911 has a back seat, but nobody will agree with me that this car would be a wise parenting choice.

Today I drove at a sedate 5mph through the 9″ cones they place in my son’s school parking lot. My car and I could totally smoke that course at 30mph easily, if they’d just move those Safety Patrol 5th graders out of the way.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

2010 Who the {Bleep} Knows

Is that really “smart”?

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

No, I Don’t Think It Is

Being a single parent does not mean I have to invest in a minivan, a sedan, or a eco-friendly aluminum box shod with bicycle tires. When I bought my car there was no way to put a car seat in it as I couldn’t prevent the airbag from deploying, (kids under the age of 12 shouldn’t use an airbag, just a seat belt.) So I had a passenger-side airbag kill switch installed, and my son has always been able to ride in a carseat or booster seat and we can rock out to music together.

(Note: beside teaching him math on the way to and from preschool and kindergarten in the Z, I also introduced him to the finer selections of 70s, 80s, 90s, and today’s music via Sirius.)

I get 21 miles to the gallon with my 300Hp two-seater.

I can’t buy $500 of bulk products at Sam’s, but I can carry all the groceries for a week I need.

I can carry 40lbs of dog food, 10lbs of cat litter, book bags, and project stuff from the hardware store, all at the same time. I can’t carry lumber, but the hardware store rents a truck for $20 if I want to add an extension onto the house.

No, I cannot haul the cub scout pack — we’re starting cub scouts this month! — to and from camp. But I can get my son to the cub scout meeting in style.

We can go to the movies, go-karting, to Denny’s, to the pool store, get haircuts, hit up Walmart, ransack ToysRUs, and just about anything we want to do.

And we can do it all while looking like race car drivers.

Driving a sports car is different that driving a sedan. It’s not a living room floating down the highway. It’s not a panoramic outlook on the world. It’s not something you do just to get to work.

You drive a sports car because you love the journey, you love the feel of the road, the look of the dashboard, the smell of the highway, and the roar of the exhaust note.

My car has massive blind spots.

My car generates a lot of road noise.

My car requires high-test gas, expensive tires, the best oil.

My sister has a Nissan/Mazda/Toyota living room on wheels with room for seven, self-opening doors, multi-zone air conditioning, and more cup holders than a pack of five-year-old kids at a birthday party chugging Hi-C.

But when my car hits 4500 RPM, it shoves you into your seat like a roller coaster.

This week, my sister is coming to visit me! I shall bring her from the airport to my home in my sports car. I may even let her drive it. I’ll tell her to drop the hammer on the highway on-ramp and not to let up until she reaches the red-line. THIRD AND FLOOR IT! I’ll bellow, and she’ll be able to hit 90 with three gears to go.

I am a single parent. I drive a sport car. Being a parent does not mean you have to give up being You.

And in 2011, I just might upgrade to the gorgeous car pictured at the beginning of this post.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Sports Cars and the Single Dad

Because, Brain, I’m thinking that running a house with just a two-seat sport car isn’t the most efficient thing in the world.

The 350Z isn’t as capable at hauling cargo as a minivan? Who woulda thunk it?

Certainly wasn’t in the manual, that’s for sure.

So what did you find at CarMax? A nice sedan? Maybe a hatchback?

No. a 2006 BMW M3 convertible.

Six-speed manual?

Sequential manual gearbox.

Gray with brown sport leather seats?

Yes.

It can carry groceries?

Yes.

It has a backseat?

Yes. It’s a 2+2.

Soft-top convertible?

Yes.

And you actually think that its a good decision to replace your 350Z with a BMW M3 convertible in the name of “being able to haul more stuff for the family?”

Yes, Brain. Yes I do.

Looks like I’m not going to have to worry about the current state of unemployment in the US; I’m totally needed here.

Brain? Can I have a 2006 BMW M3 convertible?

No, dummy.

Well, can I have a 2006 Z4 M convertible?

No.

2006 Porsche Boxter S?

No! You cannot get a convertible! You need something with which you can go grocery shopping, take your son and his friends to the movies, and possibly even tow a UHaul trailer. I’m thinking a nice Honda sedan.

I’m thinking a 2006 Chrysler 300C SRT, silver and black leather, with a 6.1 liter Hemi V8 pounding out 425HP and 420 lb.ft of torque, foshizzle.

That’d pull a UHaul, wouldn’t it…

Like a dentist ripping out an impacted molar.

DON’T TRY TO TALK ME INTO IT!

I won’t try to tell you about the 300C SRT getting from 0-60 mph in 4.7 seconds.

NO!

Or the sport seats that cradle your @ss.

NO!

Or the fact that you no longer really care about gas mileage as you’ll be working nine miles from home in a few weeks.

NO NO NO! You need a Honda!

My 300C SRT will pick Hondas outta its grill, spitting great, greasy chunks of inline, four-cylinder engine parts into the gutter.

You may not, can not, will not, no way, no how, buy a 300C SRT.

You know that most guys can get drunk and disable you, you know that, right Brain?

I’m just d@mn lucky you can’t hold liquor, otherwise I’d be doing interest calculations right now.

Phooey.

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

Drool With Me, Won’t You?

“Brain, you’re totally wrong. I can do this.”

“When was the last time you disassembled a six-cylinder engine?”

“Well, never.”

“When was the last time you disassembled any engine?”

“Well, my 1994 Honda del Sol.”

“Do you think there might be a difference between a 1994 Honda four cylinder and a 2005 Nissan 350z’s 300Hp six cylinder engine?”

“Not enough for me to really consider there’s going to be a huge problem changing the spark plugs, no.”

“You should read the maintenance manual before you spend cash on new platinum spark plugs.”

“One needs a spark plug socket and a ratchet to change spark plugs, Brain. I have those tools.”

“Daniel, the last time you looked until the hood of your car, did you see the spark plug wires?”

“No.”

“This is going to be a disaster, I just know it.”

“Shut it Brain! I’m on it.”

… thirty minutes later…

“How’s it going, Daniel?”

“I have lots of bolts, Brain.”

“Bolts?”

“Yes. The spark plugs are… in there.”

“In there?”

“Yes. And to get in there, I have to remove a lot of stuff.”

“Such as?”

“The stabilizer bar.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“The engine shroud.”

“Yes.”

“The upper intake manifold collector.”

“Natch.”

“The throttle control actuator.”

“It’s not really removed; it’s just kinda hanging there.”

“And now it looks like I have to remove the lower intake manifold collector.”

“It does indeed. Have you seen the spark plugs yet?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, Brain. No spark plugs. They’re in there; that much I know.”

“Did you get the maintenance manual?”

“No. I’m good.”

“You should get the maintenance manual. You can probably download it from the Internet.”

“Nope. I’m just going to loosen this last bolt on the…”

“DON’T DROP IT!”

…tinkle…

“You dropped it, Daniel.”

“I dropped it.”

“It didn’t go inside the engine, did it?”

“No. It’s resting on the transmission housing.”

“Nice. By the way, do you know what those tubes are for?”

“No.”

“Do you think perhaps one of them is a vacuum tube?”

“Could be.”

“Do you think perhaps one of them is a water tube?”

“Could be.”

“What is your plan if you loose all your engine coolant when you take off the water tube?”

“Um.”

“What is your plan if you drop a bolt down the intake manifold?”

“Um.”

“Daniel. Get the maintenance manual.”

“OK OK OK! I’ll get the maintenance manual, Brain.”

… downloads the maintenance manual …

“Well Daniel, what does it say?”

“It says, ‘Remove the electric throttle control actuator as follows…’”

“Did you remove the electric throttle control actuator?”

“No, I just kinda left it hanging onto the upper intake manifold collector.”

“Because?”

“Because I didn’t want to mess with the cables.”

“HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN THE SPARK PLUGS YET?!”

“No.”

“What does the manual say?!”

“It says that once I remove the lower intake manifold cover…”

“The one with all the hoses that you can’t seal or fix if something goes wrong…”

“That there will be six black boxes that are the ignition coils…”

“Those boxes that are covered by wiring harnesses and hoses like spaghetti…”

“Then I unbolt an ignition coil, remove it, disconnect it, and at the bottom of the hole will be the spark plug.”

“Well that’s so simple you should let your son do it.”

“I shall not be deterred!”

“Daniel, get out of the engine.”

“No! I can do this!”

… several more bolts later …

“Well Brain, I have an ignition coil!”

“One, Daniel?”

“Yes! One ignition coil!”

“Can you see the spark plug?”

“I can!”

“Can you get to it?”

“Yes! I… um… well, I got the spark plug socket down the hole…”

“This sounds like fun.”

“But my socket extension isn’t long enough to get a ratchet on the spark plug socket.”

“Of course. Daniel, if you say you’re going to borrow a car to go to a store to buy a longer socket extension, I’m out of here for the rest of the weekend.”

“Brain, perhaps you’re right.”

“OF COURSE I’M RIGHT! You can’t even get to the other five ignition coils until you remove the lower intake manifold collector!”

“Yeah, I’m done. I’m going to get the spark plug socket out…”

…

“Daniel?”

“I’m um… the spark plug socket isn’t coming out.”

“Dear Lord…”

“OK THAT’S IT! HOW ABOUT YOU HELP ME OUT A BIT, BRAIN!”

“Fine. Get a pair of needle nose pliers and get the d@mn socket out of the engine.”

… futzes with pliers …

“HUZZAH! It’s out, Brain!”

“Excellent.”

“OK, I’m shoving this enigne back together before I don’t have a working car anymore.”

“Smart. Good choice. Well done.”

… thirty minutes later…

“Is it together, Daniel?”

“Yes Brain. The intake manifold collector is bolted and torqued. The ignition coil is installed. Even the stabilizer bar is tight. Everything is back the way I found it.”

“Good! Now, start it up.”

“Start it up?”

“Yes. Key, ignition, clutch, turn, pray.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes!”

“Now?”

“Yes!

“I’m scared, Brain.”

“As you should. Is your Will up to date?”

“Everything goes to Mrs BRK.”

“Fire it up!”

… fires it up …

“It started, Brain! All the cylinders are firing, too!

“Thank Goodness. Now take a vacation day on Monday and get those spark plugs changed by a professional.”

“OK, I will. You know Brain, if this car hadn’t started, it would’ve made one h3ll of a good blog post.”

“Like your computer would’ve been in one piece had you rendered your car useless by trying to change spark plugs. Moron.”

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Post from: Brain Needed Space

My Computer Would’ve Been Destroyed By My Rage