Sweet ride

Sorry for not posting for days. My life has been upside down. Perhaps more on that later.
But first, check out the sweet ride I'm considering to replace the cracked-up coupe below. No, your eyes are not fooling you, those are flames on the side. I know, I know. Beggars (and used car buyers) can't be choosers.
I always thought that PT Cruisers were kind of silly, but now that I'm looking for a car that's safe and affordable with cargo space and decent gas mileage, the Cruiser is appealing. Excellent side impact crash rating, less than $7,000, 19 cubic feet inside and 25 mpg highway. I could do without the tricked-out flames. Although ... maybe I'll chop the roof down, drop the frame and make a lead sled.
Guess I'll have to buy it first.

Road rage, Part IV: This time, it's personal

Yesterday I was in a dangerous accident. I didn't blog about it because I was kind of shaken up. Nicholas and I were crossing an intersection (with a green light) when an SUV T-boned us. He must have been stopped at the light before he went through because he wasn't going very fast. But even a slow SUV vs. Saturn coupe is enough to do some serious damage since Saturns are made entirely of plastic. One of the rear wheels is now riding at an angle. The SUV hit us exactly where Nicholas was sitting. Exactly. Nicholas cried a little and when I took him out of the car, I noticed his seat had been jarred off center. If that SUV had been driving 10 miles faster, he'd be in the hospital right now. If it were 20, well, I don't even want to think about it.
Oh, and the SUV drove away. Grrr. I hope they catch him; I got most of his license plate numbers. Or at least, I hope he's miserable with guilt. He knows he hit my kid.

Brave new world

Today was the annual staff meeting at work. I work at a newspaper, whoops, I mean Information Center. The meeting is where the editorial department director outlines the plans for the upcoming year to a bunch of abrasive smart asses who reflexively distrust authority. I would not want to manage journalists.
But what we talked about is that almost everything about how we do our jobs will be changing. And fast. The not-very-well kept secret of the industry is that the processed tree pulp product we put on porches every day is going buh-bye in the next couple decades. So, newspapers are scrambling to find platforms to replace it. That means online, interactive, etc. At the Register Star, reporters are going to learn how to shoot and edit video and audio, and I'm looking forward to it. No more dawdling on a story until the afternoon deadline, since Web publishing means we can break news 24 hours a day. And that allows us to run our only competitors, the TV stations ragged on a regular basis. So that's kind of fun.

Jumping on the band's wagon

A few weeks ago I discovered Gnarls Barkley's song "Crazy" and really like it. My friends inform me that I am several months behind the times. I do not care. This is the perk of being completely ignorant of hit radio stations and MTV. All music is new to me. And Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse accept me. From now on, I want to be called "Danger Nate." Or maybe "Leeg-Lo."
Plus, I'm so over that high school mentality of striving to be the guy who listened to that hot band for years before they went commercial and everybody else started to listen. Puh-leeze. In terms of mass culture, I am a lemming just like the rest of you.

Election night

Tonight's the first election I haven't covered in four years. It was sort of anticlimatic to head home at 5:30 p.m. and miss out on all the action tonight: the newsroom pizza, the tense horse race, the frantic rush near deadline. But since I'm stuck at home, I decided on the next best thing: Breathless CNN coverage on TV and internet election results on my laptop. It's almost as exciting as the newsroom.
(yes, I am a political junkie)

Yup, the king's English

Ever wonder what kinda twang you got? Well, mine's no surprise...

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop."
The Midland
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The South
The West
Boston
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

Well, I guess that would make 'em happy

Bumper sticker seen on a rusty red pickup today:
"I'm happier than a carp in a septic tank."

Road rage, Part III: Spawn

Today I was driving home from the mall with Nicholas. There's an intersection near Lou Bachrodt Chevy dealership where all the mall shoppers exit onto the main drag, Perryville Road. The right turn lane onto this road used to get backed up regularly, so the city decided several years ago to add another lane to Perryville and provide for an unobstructed right turn that accepted all the mall traffic. But apparently I am the only driver in Rockford who realizes this because every time I pull up there behind someone, they stop and look over their shoulder and wait for traffic to clear in the other two lanes before turning, even though there's a quarter-mile stretch of lane dedicated to their use.
So, today I pulled behind another yay-hoo frozen there, waiting. Being my impatient self, I honked my horn, gestured wildly toward the right and shouted "There's a right turn lane! Right over there!"
Of course, this childish display was soaked up by Nicholas in the back seat, who said, "What's happening dad? What's happening?"
So tonight when drove to the grocery store, Nicholas began repeating "Der's a wite turn lane! Wite over der!" and telling me to honk the horn.
Great.