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Nov. 12th, 2003 06:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hafoc
Sometimes I call myself a Neanderthal. Not with any shame. I'm just long of arm, short of leg, with wide shoulders and an oversized skull. I share those features with Neanderthals. My people all came from places where Neanderthals are known to have lived, too. Kind of makes you wonder.
My build never bothered me except when I rode in small cars. Their roofs were, until recently, too low for me to sit upright. I could rake the seatback until it stretched my arms to hold the steering wheel, or I could sit hunched over with my head pressing on the roof. Neither was especailly pleasant.
I got around that for a while by driving, first, a pseudo-Jeep, then a full sized 4x4 pickup. And I may again, sometime. In spite of the fact that one dear friend (and you know you are Athelind) may disown me if I buy a SUV, I really miss the four-wheel drive.
Angelinos and such have told me that I don't need four wheel drive because I don't drive offroad. To which I gently reply that around here snow is not something you inhale through a rolled-up hundred dollar bill. It's a meteorological phenomenon which would be a disaster trumpeted on the so-called news except we know it's coming and take steps to prepare ourselves. I humbly propose that when you can't SEE the bloody road because it's been covered in snow for four months straight-- which has happened-- four wheel drive is good, whether you're on road, off road, or don't know. (Which also has happened.)
Be that as it may, when I bought my Focus I was pleased with it. The front wheel drive works well enough as long as the snow's light, no more than four to six inches at one time. The Focus also has lots of headroom. That's a nice feature of many small cars today. It makes them look stubby, but it works, so who cares?
I still had to duck to get into the car. And the rearview mirror was too low. It was below my eye level and therefore created a huge blind spot just where a car pulling into my path from a sidestreet would be.
I could duck to look under. But that gave me a crick in the neck. Besides, all I had to do to die was forget to look ONCE.
The other day I had a brilliant insight. I could have the rearview mirror moved! It could go a couple inches further up the windshield, or even a bit toward the passenger's side. So I started calling around to find out who could do this for me, and what it would cost.
I was considering running down to the auto glass store to ask in person, the other day, while walking out to the car after lunch. I opened the car door, looked in, and stopped. There's a little crank on the front of the driver's seat. A little crank, between the seat and the floor.
Oh.
So I cranked the seat down to where it should have been all along. Now the mirror doesn't block my view of traffic. I don't have to duck to get into the car, either. Not much, anyway.
My head was swelling with pride that I came up with the brilliant insight to relocate the rearview mirror. And then reality came along to bite me in the butt, as usual.
But hey. Neanderthals all had big heads, but nobody ever accused them of being especially bright.
My build never bothered me except when I rode in small cars. Their roofs were, until recently, too low for me to sit upright. I could rake the seatback until it stretched my arms to hold the steering wheel, or I could sit hunched over with my head pressing on the roof. Neither was especailly pleasant.
I got around that for a while by driving, first, a pseudo-Jeep, then a full sized 4x4 pickup. And I may again, sometime. In spite of the fact that one dear friend (and you know you are Athelind) may disown me if I buy a SUV, I really miss the four-wheel drive.
Angelinos and such have told me that I don't need four wheel drive because I don't drive offroad. To which I gently reply that around here snow is not something you inhale through a rolled-up hundred dollar bill. It's a meteorological phenomenon which would be a disaster trumpeted on the so-called news except we know it's coming and take steps to prepare ourselves. I humbly propose that when you can't SEE the bloody road because it's been covered in snow for four months straight-- which has happened-- four wheel drive is good, whether you're on road, off road, or don't know. (Which also has happened.)
Be that as it may, when I bought my Focus I was pleased with it. The front wheel drive works well enough as long as the snow's light, no more than four to six inches at one time. The Focus also has lots of headroom. That's a nice feature of many small cars today. It makes them look stubby, but it works, so who cares?
I still had to duck to get into the car. And the rearview mirror was too low. It was below my eye level and therefore created a huge blind spot just where a car pulling into my path from a sidestreet would be.
I could duck to look under. But that gave me a crick in the neck. Besides, all I had to do to die was forget to look ONCE.
The other day I had a brilliant insight. I could have the rearview mirror moved! It could go a couple inches further up the windshield, or even a bit toward the passenger's side. So I started calling around to find out who could do this for me, and what it would cost.
I was considering running down to the auto glass store to ask in person, the other day, while walking out to the car after lunch. I opened the car door, looked in, and stopped. There's a little crank on the front of the driver's seat. A little crank, between the seat and the floor.
Oh.
So I cranked the seat down to where it should have been all along. Now the mirror doesn't block my view of traffic. I don't have to duck to get into the car, either. Not much, anyway.
My head was swelling with pride that I came up with the brilliant insight to relocate the rearview mirror. And then reality came along to bite me in the butt, as usual.
But hey. Neanderthals all had big heads, but nobody ever accused them of being especially bright.
