Good Bye Midnight Cowboy

While the world is reeling on it’s axis over the untimely death of the uniquely talented Mr. Jackson we here at Sasstown are mourning the loss of our 2000 Audi 2.7T. Seriously. We drove the hair off of that car in the 9 years we owned it. There are 190,000 miles worth of intriguing stories we can recollect. It’s probably worthy of a book all on it’s own. For a more thorough recollection of the beginning of my love affair with this car see Dirty Little Secret.

Comparing the loss of a beloved car to the death of a rock star may seem audacious and irreverent. And it is. But I will spend far more measured amount of time missing that car than the unfortunate pop star, even though I was a fan of his back in the day. That midnight blue high performance vehicle brought me, a run of the mill soccer mom out of obscurity and into a fantasy life that didn’t include always trying to haul 6 kids around. That sucker was worth every penny for the sake of my mental health.

Like the feeling of despair experienced by most pet owners when informed that their beloved animal needs to be put out of it’s suffering, I reluctantly traded in my trophy car recently. I tried to justify the costs of repairing the vehicle but the mechanic sadly convinced me the repairs of the turbo engine would outweigh the value of the thing. When my son moved to Chicago, possession of the prized auto reverted back to me. In a rite of passage he became the primary driver when the car was around 5 years old and took it with him to live at Michigan State University where he was a student.

The Prince had been the chooser, buyer and caretaker of our family vehicles since he first took possession of his drivers permit. He strived to keep them in mint condition regularly washing, waxing and vacuuming out the remnants of happy meals enjoyed by his sisters. He became buddies with the local Audi mechanic. The Prince handled it all and kept the Audi we each considered our own shining and humming for 190,000 fun driving miles. Once he had it at school he had a fancy alarm and remote car starter installed.

Late one morning I got a frantic phone call from my son. When he woke up late that morning he was dismayed to find out his car was not in the apartment parking lot as expected. He had a garden level apartment and someone had come through the window, took his keys and wallet and helped themselves to the Midnight Cowboy. I was thankful he didn’t wake up and get in a tangle with the criminal. Later that day I was feeling very forlorn about the loss of that car.

That same day a student from upstairs called to say he thought his room mate may have nabbed the car. During the night he had thrown all his stuff in garbage bags and left. Turns out he had been in the Prince’s apartment for a party the week before, explaining how he knew what he needed to know to get the keys and the car. They thought he may have headed to Detroit to his girlfriends house. They thought wrong. The following day he got the call from the East Lansing police.

Turns out they found the car on the other side of town parked in a handicap parking spot, identified it as stolen and towed it to the police impound. When our criminal friend woke up he called the police to report his car had been stolen. The police went back to his location and asked him for ID. Since he had my son’s wallet he proceeded to whip out the stolen ID and tried to pass it off as his own. To make it even more interesting this guy looked nothing like my son, was not even the same race. You know what they say about dumb criminals, he was actually surprised when he was arrested on the spot. Order was restored to our little corner of the universe.

The last year was very hard on Midnight Cowboy. We added another driver to our family, and she’s not a shining star in the driving department. We fear she may be the kiss of death to many cars to come. Then the winter was pretty extreme this year and Midnight didn’t like that at all, billowing smoke when driven. It wasn’t pretty.

I broke the news to my boy in Chicago and he decided to take the train home to help me get the matter settled once and for all. We drove it to the dealer and they took a look at it, gave us the trade in price. We were to come back in morning to pick up my new car. We debated whether we should drive the Audi home or leave it on the dealer lot for the night. My son got in, gave me a pleading look and started it up, it sounded fantastic but it belched smoke so we left it to get accustomed to the new way of life.

It was a gloomy morning and we were Chicago bound after taking delivery of the new car. I wouldn’t call us happy campers.Sadly we emptied Midnight of all our personal belongings and spent some private time saying good-bye. Hopefully they will fix the problems and sell it to some other lucky soul and Midnight will live on to provide good memories. The Prince said good by and gave that old car a big goodbye kiss. R.I.P. to our turbo charged fun.

48 Hour Leave Of Absence

Alternative titles: How to Blitz Chicago In 48 Hours. How To Spend Quality Time With Adult Children.

Day 1:

1. Pick up new car from Ford dealer at 3:30 p.m.
2. Drive like a bat out of hell to try and make it to Chicago before the Wings game starts.
3. Arrive to the West Loop apartment at 7:40 p.m.
4. Wow doorman with my new ride, unload car and park in deck lot.
5. Greet my Smart Cookie daughter.
6. Saunter over to Vivo for a fantastic meal (chargrilled asparagus with shaved parmesan, shrimp/basil linguine and a fillet to split) and outstanding bottle of Zinfandel). It's a sure bet for a nice meal in a swanky setting on Randolph Street.
7. Stumble down Randolph back to apartment.
8. Check out Conan O’Brian in his new role as host of the Tonight Show.
9. Fall asleep relatively early(1 a.m.) since all had put in a full day.

Day 2:

1. Answer the phone at 5:30 a.m. when my baby calls from home while getting ready for school (6:30 a.m. in Michigan).
2. Tell her “have a good day but DON’T CALL BACK UNLESS SOMEONE IS BLEEDING”.
3. Return to sleep.
4. Arise, slip on exercise clothes and go for a brisk walk on my own, hitting Starbucks on the way home.

5. Exclaim how the same latte I get in Michigan for $3. 60 is $4.07 here.

6. Meet up with the 2 adult children and decide to go out loafering about, shopping and lunching for the afternoon.

7. Walking along the river, appreciating the boats and architecture.

8. Stop by the University Of Chicago Graduate Business School book store for a license plate holder for my new car. I figure I ought to get as much milage as I can out of having my first born in one of the most prestigious MBA programs (even though her employer, not parents are paying for it).

9. Have a very tasty lunch before shopping.

10. Boring my son to death while uncharacteristically spending over an hour in Anthropology.

11. Being out voted on walking home so we crowd into a cab.

12. Being made fun of for my Justin Timberlake ring tone (it’s the baby calling, schools over for the day, “when are you coming home”)?

13. Handing the phone off so she can talk to her older sister.

14. Strewing shopping bags and putting feet up while enjoying the Chicago skyline view out of her 26th floor apartment window.

15. Freshening up for our night out, “lets see how much of a ruckus we can raise” blitz of the Fulton River District neighborhood.

16. Phone call from lawyer who now has my cell phone due to it being left in cab, rendezvous options discussed.
17. Stroll over to Carnivale around 5 p.m. Their web site is definitely worth perusing. Bold neuvo Latino cuisine and wildness abounds, just not at 5 p.m.

18. Patio, overlooking Fulton Ave and I-94, tres (3) margaritas, ceviche (tuna tiradito) which featured tuna, jimica, serrano chile and avacado( delicioso) were consumed for about an hour and a half while waiting on previously mentioned lawyer who has my phone to call us. Watching the street we couldn’t help notice when a wine distributor pulled up with a trunk full of vino in a space pack type set up. I guessed he was Czechoslovakian. I then had to sit through a mini lecture (from my smart cookie who majored in Russian and Eastern European History at University of Michigan) on how that is a misnomer. You can be Czech or Slovac, not both. So he was Slovac, very mysterious in his behavior I thought. We made fun of the waiters we had with their super short ties which looked utterly retarded.

19. Bathroom at Carnivale. It’s way too early in the evening to have a crowd but they have a restroom attendant in there, which is something that really creeps me out in a bathroom with no other patrons peeing. I also have learned to budget every dollar in this recession/Michigan depression thing so I don’t want to pay a buck to use the potty when I’m paying a premium price already for my drinks and appetizers.

20. Daughter in the meantime has met up with phone nabbing lawyer. Turns out he was a little socially inept in face to face communication, but I am grateful he grabbed the wayward cell phone out of the taxi and went out of his way to get it back to me.

21. $160 later we sashay ourselves down Fulton Ave into the Fulton Market district to do a little bar hopping. Do guys sashay? I don’t want to misrepresent the prince. He accompanied us on our sashay and it was a beautiful evening.

22. Upon exiting the restaurant I spied an Audi RS4 parked out front for exactly what it is: a undisputed example of automotive heroin. 0-60 in 4.5 seconds, it’s stupidly fast. To quote The Truth About Cars, “Audi has used every trick in the playbook to get the RS4 to handle near perfectly. There are not enough superlatives to properly describe the vulgar joy of an RS4”. I got the Smart Cookie (aka Princess #1) to lick it. I asked the Prince to lick it but he’s tired of my shenanigans and refused to cooperate.

23. On to Publican we went. This place just fascinated me from the moment we walked to it. First of all it’s on the edge of the West Loop, a neighborhood still a bit sparse and on the gritty side. We decided to make a pit stop at their unique bathroom set up. Tall, solid wood doors open to each private compartment. Once you are done with your business you exit and wash your hands at a circular troth type set up.
24. On entry into the restaurant proper we were ushered to these VERY PRACTICAL tall round tables that featured hooks for your purse (or pocketbook for you southern belles) and a shelf underneath for anything else you might be toting (like a sweater). How cool is that ???? Then our cute waitress introduced me to their bar area specialty, #1 was oysters to which I said “ no thank you”. Then she went on about how they featured ham at this smoke house type venue in the meatpacking district of Chicago. Did you say HAM?

I love ham. No kidding. I just endured weird ceviche (with sushi grade tuna slices instead of all diced up) at our last stop. I was so excited, I’ll take the HAM sampler and a vodka/soda. Turns out this establishment is owned by the chefs of renowned West Loop restaurants Avec and Mockingbird. I was disappointed by the razor thin sliced ham when I was expecting a southern style slab of moist ham. We ate it anyway and I was accused of annoying the snot out of everyone with my picture taking.

25. Last stop for the night was La Sardine, across from Harpo studios, for a night cap. Only I did not need a night cap, I was way past my middle aged drinking capacity for the evening. I inquired about a Chocolate martini, but they didn’t do them here. What kind of a place did you bring me to? I ordered some water and my companions insisted on ordering the famous Le Queue de Boeuf (braised oxtails with potato gnocchi). After a long wait it arrived to our place at the dark polished wood bar and it struck me as HILARIOUS. I have no idea why, but I laughed so hard at the mini sized bowl of yumminess that I couldn’t even operate the camera.

26. Begrudgingly we called it a night. Smart Cookie had a whole day of class in the morning and I had a Saturday evening plan I had to be home in time for. Did I say how great it is to just be able to WALK home after a night out?

27. The next morning we all made it out of the apartment on time. I started my mad dash of a drive home. I have to admit I was zipping along the Indiana Tollway (seriously, are we really to believe the speed limit is 55?) Third car in a pack of 4 we were cruising 75-80 when we came around a curve to the left to see a State Trooper. My heart sunk and I slowed down and got in the middle lane and sure enough here he comes with lights flashing. He pulled over the pickup that was at the head of my pack and then made these funny hand signals to some of the other cars to pull over. He can’t possibly mean me, can he? I motor on while silently practicing my dumb blond stay at home mom act in case another trooper is called to catch up with me. Slick on some plum brandy lipstick with a top coat of Philosophy Kiss Me lip gloss, change my CD to some cheerful contemporary christian music and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

28. Stop holding my breath when I cross the Michigan border. Stop at Culver’s at exit 32 for a bathroom break and some root beer. Pry the really pretty but dead as a doornail bird out of my front bumper with my nail file (then threw it all away) so my girls won’t have kittens when I pull into the drive way in 2 hours.

29. Give about 5 seconds of thought to back tracking to take a picture of a highway directional sign that advertised “VIP lounge & massage” for a truck stop. That’s got to be a good blog story right there, but I’m too focused on my mission to turn around.

30. After one slight traffic back up I pull into my driveway on schedule and promptly unload my bags into my house because that is just the way I like to operate. It's about 3:45 p.m.

That my friends, is how it is done.

Dirty Little Secret

I am about to divulge a dirty little secret for a SAHM of middle age. I like to drive fast. Let me clarify myself. I like to drive fast under the right conditions, like when the weather is good, the freeway is not too busy, and I have miles of open road beckoning me. Any of my teenage drivers will confirm I don’t condone speeding while driving in town and never in neighborhoods. Over the years I have driven lots and lots of highway miles, often solo or as the only adult. I love a good road trip (if it’s good it means there are no fussing children in the car.) I have one more confession, I like to drive fast but I am a terrible passenger. I get nausea  in the back seat, seem to be unable to sleep in the car, and often make startled hissing noises if I am the least bit nervous. By the year 2000, I had 6 kids and had been driving some type of mini van or SUV for more than a decade, more often than not full of noise producing bodies of various sizes. At this point I can’t remember the circumstances, but  I was having some fun fantasizing about driving a sleek vehicle that didn’t have room for too many kids at one time.

That was during an era when IBM stock was soaring and we had some disposable income. I shopped around and found the typical second class treatment reserved for females with a couple babies in tow. One memorable stop was the Land Rover dealer on Woodward Avenue in the metro Detroit area. The paunchy balding middle aged salesman reluctantly answered my questions, making me wait several times while I held on to a squirming toddler. I was never so happy as when my precious daughter  leaned over and promptly threw up all over the showroom  floor next to the shiny vehicle. Little did he know that while he was doing his happy dance as I left the dealership, I was taking my amply funded check book with me.

So I proceeded on with my research and came up with one of Car and Driver’s top picks for the year:

The Audi A6 2.7T Quatro. It was midnight blue with tan leather seats and a sun roof. It boasted a fashion forward design and had incredible handling. I drove that thing off of the dealer’s lot quicker than you can say french toast, fully paid for. It was quite a feat for a soccer mom who often wore a slight scent of baby vomit. I was also deluded into thinking men were hitting on me when in reality they wanted to know more about my car. One day I was stopped in our church parking lot by a very large good looking fellow asking about the features of my new found love. Later on when I pointed out the big guy who was “hitting on” me to a friend and she let me know I had my first close up conversation with the Detroit Lion’s new half back. To say it was an escape mechanism for me would be a severe understatement.

Time moves on and I am sad to say that I am no longer driving that Audi A6, but it  is still in the family, humming along with 140,000 miles on it. Not only that, it still LOOKS GOOD and drives fantastically. My only son inherited the car several years back and has  maintained it impeccably. It’s seen it’s share of excitement, including being stolen and beaten up. A few months ago the boy and I had the occasion to make a road trip to Chicago. He drove there and I drove home. Usually returning home from a fun trip is such a drag... let’s just say my growing fondness for NASCAR racing has given me a lot of  driving inspiration.