Category: cars

Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts

I had two dental appointments yesterday. The first was scheduled for 10:00 AM in Ashland. A second required me in Medford, up Interstate 5, at 2:10 PM.

The first dentist is about a mile from my house. A road closure caused some initial issues. They’d closed Tolman, my usual route, to re-oil the chipseal. Like, thanks for the notice, city! It’s something we’ve consistently encountered in Ashlandia in recent years: they close roads for work with little warning and just expect you to find your own work-around.

I disliked that start. This appointment was for a new bridge. The one installed back in ’07 — yes, this century, smart ass — had finally given up the clue. I sneezed it out one day last fall, chipping it. I was recovering from ankle surgery and decided I’d deal with one issue at a time. Then, finding a dentist, making appointments, and here I was, having it done in June.

Went pretty well except the AI on their bridge design software decided to take some time off. The bridge was scheduled to be done by 12 PM. I left the chair at 11:15, went home, and came back at noon only to be told about the issues. It’d be at least another 35 minutes. I left for home again. Each time that I went home, BTW, I’d go in and show my wife my incomplete work and ask, “What do you think of my new smile?” Returning at 1 PM, the bridge was ready. Fifteen minutes later and $3900, it was done. On to Medford for my oral surgery consultation.

I arrived at my Medford appointment at 1:45; they saw me at 2:30. “Sorry for the wait.” Yeah, thanks, I had nothing else to do! I’d spent the time reading “The Sentence” by Louise Erdrich. Once in the chair, I went through the usual medical history stuff and had the 360 digital scan of my mouth done. I was there to plan to have oral surgery to install three implants.

One implant was for an occlusion above it. They felt the tooth needed to be extracted and replaced. I agreed. The other two teeth had left on their own last November and December. They were side by side on the upper right side of my smile.

That plan went a little awry. “You have an abscess up here,” Mike Doherty told me. He was the grinning, energetic guy who was going to do this part of my dental work. “It’s 8 millimeters wide. Something of that size, we recommend a biopsy.”

Of course I’ll have the biopsy done. Gotta be safe about these things.

“Also,” Mike said, “because of the abscess’s size and location, we’ll need to do a bone graft first. Once it’s healed, in four to six months, we’ll do the implant for that tooth. In the meantime, it’ll be an empty space, just as it is now. But we can go ahead and do the other two now.”

So, okay. It’s scheduled for week from tomorrow. The process was quoted at $7,000. Which was depressing. The first car I bought was a 1968 Chevy Camaro with a 328 V-8. Paid $1995 for it in 1975.

Wish I had that car now.

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Munda’s Theme Music

Suming continues in Ashlandia. It’s a spring base with heavy summer nuances today, Munda, June 2, 2025. Presently 60 F, we’ll pop through 80 before the sun declares fini.

I’m in a bit of a hurry this morning. Time again for us to do Food & Friends deliveries. After that, it’s back to the writing routine and then beginning of month chores. I also pruned trees and bushes around the yard, and now must cut it all down and put it in the green bin for pickup tomorrow.

Haven’t heard back from Mom in days. I’ve regularly texted her. I do know she’s okay. Little sister’s youngest just turned 17. I saw Mom in FB photos of he bash. The lad, named Michael because one can’t have enough Michaels, is the youngest of the nieces and nephews. The next generation of them are nipping on his heels, as they’re sixteen. All are impressive examples of human beings, so far; we know how people change as they age, don’t we? Well, not everyone. But many inevitably shift into someone else who may be better or worse.

My wife bought a book this weekend called A Short Stay in Hell. It’s very short but thought-provoking. We both read it and then discussed its ideas.

With my nephew’s birthday in the rear view, it should be no surprise that thoughts of generations and transitions are occupying The Neurons. They dug out The Who with “My Generation” from 1965. Love the video of the era. The basics of people walking, dancing, and working aren’t much different from what we’d see in a video produced today. Shoes, clothing, and hair styles would be the most notable aspect of the differences, along with cars and vehicles. Since there’s no sound, we’d miss the other facet of change: how talk has changed. But of course, any video of people on the streets today would be peppered with folks on cell phones., right?

Time to make it a Munda, just as so many generations before me. I’ll start with coffee. Cheers

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Frida’s Wandering Thoughts

Out walking on break today, a Honda Civic passed.

1983, and silver, I saw. As sis had.

Sis’s Honda suffered from cancer rust. This one was in good shape. A Sarah Lawrence College decal was on the back window.

I was taken back. I’ve never been to Sarah Lawrence College, but it’s been in pop culture in sufficient settings that I knew it’s located in New York city. How did that car with that decal end up almost all the way across the nation, in Ashland, Oregon?

I wondered about the car’s history. Was it a gift to a student freshman attending Sarah Lawrence College? Conversely, maybe they bought it for themselves after graduating and beginning a new job. Maybe, though, the car was located here, and a Sarah Lawrence grad bought the car and put their alma mater on the window.

So many questions. When I returned to the coffee shop, I did a distance check between here and Sara Lawrence College: 2901 miles via I80. Take note, though: there’s a lot of construction enroute between here and there, and toll roads. But traffic is light. It’ll take just under 42 hours if you drive straight there.

I wonder if the car would make it. I imagined it returning to its home, like salmon returning to their spawning waters. Then it all veered along science fiction lines and became a tale about cars gaining intelligence and becoming homesick for their first owners, and then seeking them out.

Guess I’ll call it “Tires & Wheels”. That’s the name of the two main characters: a red and white 1985 Chevy K10 pickup called Tires and a 1983 silver Honda Civic named Wheels.

You know what? I think it’s a love story as much as an adventure.

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A Short Weird Dream

I dreamed that I had a blue SUV. I think it was a Chevy or GMC. It was one of the larger varieties but a recent model

The vehicle required work. I didn’t know what was wrong with it and wanted to check the SUV out, so I lifted it up and put it on its rear end. It was too tall for me, so I shrank it by motioning with my hands using them like I was squeezing the vehicle, until I was a few inches taller than it.

A person witnessing all of this asked, “How did you do that?” They went on to explain what they witness, adding, “I’ve never seen anyone do anything like that.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think about it. I just knew I could, so I did.”

Dream end.

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Thirsta’s Theme Music

The n’umbers are adding up. Several fours reside in today’s date: 04/24/2025. It’s Thirstda. The week’s fourth day. Depends on how it’s counted.

More eerie is the temperature. It’s 47. The high today will be 74. The low will be 47. All in Fahrenhei.

Alexa’s recital captivates me with all those fours and sevens. I graduated high school in 1974. Childhood was over. Joined the military. Went on my first flight. Slept with 49 other guys in two open bays for the first time. Had my head shaved to peach fuzz for the first time. Shaved off my mustache for the first time.1974 was a year of many first times.

I listened to a melange of radio rock and pop in 1974. I was driving a 1964 Mercury Comet sedan. Stout as a Sherman tank. Forest green. Automatic. 289 V8. And a cheap AM/FM stereo with after market speakers mounted on the parcel shelf behind the back seat. Awesome sound for untutored ears. Delivered diversions by Al Green, Deep Purple, David Bowie, the Eagles and the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Joe Walsh, Elton John, Queen, Harry Chapin, the Doobie Brothers… The list of performers and music goes on. Good time to be young and listening to pop music.

The Neurons disappear into 1974’s dark storage in my brain. Remember those bellbottoms? And that paisley top? Oh yeah, and the worn brown leather spur boots and the white high-top tennies painted dayglo orange on a whim? Heck, yeah. My girlfriend and I often ate at Dairy Queen. It was the only place that was close, and even it was miles away. We married the next year, after she graduated. Still together.

The Neurons come out with Elton John and “Benny and the Jets”. We loved singing that refrain with EJ, “B-b-b-b-b-Benny and the jetssssss…” So here we go, reliving the past all over again.

Sunshine and clouds are waltzing ogether. Alexa said we’ll get rain showers. The clouds look like they’re willing to back up that prediction. Coffee is settling into my 2025 body. The kid from ’74 never saw it comin’. Here we go, rocking on into another year. Cheers

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The Studebaker Dream

Dream fade in. I’m a young adult. I’m with a real-life friend who passed away a few years ago. He’s charging me to take care of his care for him. “Drive it over to the condo and put it in the parking garage,” he tells me.

The car is a silver 1956 Studebaker Golden Hawk in pristine condition. I agree to do as he asks. He and I are on vacation together, along with our extended families. I drive the Studebaker over and park it in the garage. I can see it from the rented, shared condo. The condo is enormous. The living room/dining room/kitchen combo’s entire western side is open to the sun and surf. Yes, surf, because it’s located right above a long, flat beach. Wonderful sunshine and blue sky are visible outside.

The condo is busy with people coming and going, talking, making plans. All of the people are familiar t me. Many are real life friends and relatives.

I’m part of the conversations and activities about our plans. But I’m also distracted, concerned about the Studebaker. Word comes to me that it needs to be moved to let some big truck by. I don’t want to go over there to move it. But somehow I have a black, wireless remote control. Using it, I start the car, back it up, let the truck by, and then park the car again. I end up doing this same maneuver three more times. In parallel, I discover that the remote works on other cars as well. I keep moving cars for people using the remote.

Then we’re all dashing around, doing things, collecting groceries, making meals, eating. As that happens, I discover that all of the Studebaker’s windows are shattered. The car is also riddle with dents and scratches. Non-plussed, I wonder aloud, what the hell happened? I’m concerned about what my friend will say about his car’s condition.

While I’m still fretting, we all go outside to enjoy the sunny beach and ocean. It’s wonderful out there. Then, shallow, long waves enter. News reaches us that there’s a storm far offshore driving these waves. Sunshine glitters along the waves. We talk about what a powerful storm that must be.

I return to the condo for something. When I’m in there, I hear shouting from outside. Turning, I see a long, flat, white wave race up the beach. It’s not deep or thunderous but it was wholly unexpected by everyone. Watching, I see that no one is hurt. Fast moving, the water only reaches most people’s knees.

Although the condo is above the beach, the wave rushes into the condo. It carries me, upright, the condo’s length. I laugh, enjoying the experience. Looking across at the parking garage, I realize that it’s gone, along with all of the cars which were parked in it. I’m amazed but relieved; I can’t be blamed for my friend’s car damage now.

The water swirls around inside the condo. I wish for a towel. Then I realize, damn, I left it on the condo floor. It’s underwater now.

I think, I should have picked up a towel when I saw the wave coming.

Dream end.

A note: the man who passed away shared my first name, Michael. The car in the dream was made the year that I was born, 1956. Coincidence? Who knows?

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Stopping You There

Trump Said Auto Emissions Don’t Affect the Environment. That’s Not True.

President Trump announced on Monday that he planned to relax limits on pollution from cars, saying that the move wouldn’t “mean a damn bit of difference to the environment.”

But decades of science show that the pollution from automobile tailpipes has harmed the environment and public health, from the days when leaded gasoline sent neurotoxins into the air and soil to the carbon dioxide emissions that are heating the planet right now.

No need to read any further. ‘Decades of science’ means nothing to PINO Trusk. Those are facts. Facts do not count in Trumpworld. We’ve already seen that with vaccinations and COVID-19. Measles and vaccines. Anything and vaccines.

Trump’s vision for the United States is a dark and poisoned place.

He’s just a monster.

1

Twosda’s Wandering Thoughts

We passed the Ford dealership today on the way home from shopping. The selection of new and used cars was impressive. We’d been talking off and on about buying another car before the TTs (Trump Tariff) blow the market up. Three friends had all purchased new cars. All are EVs. We were feeling a little EV envy. Guess I could write that as EnVy but would anyone but me understand?

“Art and Marsha bought a Kia,” my wife said. “Mary and Bruce bought a Hyndai. Priscilla and Alan also bought a Hyundai. Nancy has ordered a new Japanese car that’s being made to order.”

Those were things I already knew. I suspected my wife was reminding herself. I was drifting toward a pretty, new Mustang Mach e. I probably wouldn’t buy one. Car & Driver ranks it as 4th in the compact EV SUV category. Two Kias and a Hyundai rank above it. But those are what my friends are driving. I don’t want to drive the same car as them. I also know that C&D thinks highly of the new Mazda CX 90 Hybrid. I like Mazdas but the 90 is a big beast. Way more SUV than we need.

Then I spotted it. Midnight Silver Metallic. A 2024 Tesla Model S.

I checked out the sticker. 11,000 miles. 52,000 dollars. Loaded. Still under warranty.

“That’s a great price,” I told my wife. “But it’s a Tesla. And…you know.”

She nodded. “Yes. But.” She looked at me. “Let’s do it.”

So guess what we did?

We laughed our asses off. Ha, ha. April Fools! There’s no way we’d buy one of those overpriced ego machines. Car & Driver ranks the Tesla 13th in that category, which is the luxury EV scene. All sorts of better machines available that we’d buy before a Tesla. But before buying in that category, I’d shop more practical categories first.

Rain began falling anew. We trotted to our ten-year-old CX 5. I patted it on the steering wheel. “Who needs a new car when we have you?” Although, as we pulled out, I spotted a pretty little Tesla Cybertruck.

Oh, please. Would anyone ever call a Cybertruck little and pretty?

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Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

I am again mystified. This isn’t shoutitfromtheroof news. I’m often mystified.

I know I mystify others, too. Especially my wife. She often avoids asking questions to clarify, preferring to express her doubts and confusion with her facial expressions. I used to ask her, “What’s that look for?” when I was young. I don’t make those inquiries these days.

My mystification is again with other people. Specifically, other drivers. They often mystify me. Cars stop four car lengths back from the car in front of them. “Why do they do that?” I ask myself and my wife. We laundry list reasons for fun. It’s not satisfying because I never know the real answer.

Other driving aspects which mystify me is the lack of adherence to speed limits. It’s not that I’m worried about speeding. I speed. No, the other drivers’ weird behavior in regards to speed limits trigger me. “It was thirty-five,” I tell my wife. “And they were going thirty. Now it’s a twenty-five miles an hour limit and they’re still going thirty.”

“I think most drivers don’t pay attention,” my wife says.

I agree with her in principle, but I don’t know. That bugs me.

The latest driving mystery involves turn signals. “I’ve noticed a new trend,” I tell my wife. “People are coming to a traffic light, stopping at the red light, but if they’re turning, they’re not putting on their turn signals before until they start to turn. Why do they do that? Don’t they understand what a turn signal is about?”

“Maybe they forgot where they’re going,” my wife says.

That’s possible. But I don’t know. That bugs me.

Returning from the library the other day, she rushed in and said, “You’re right. I had three different drivers not turn on their turn signal until they began turning. What’s going on? Why are they doing that?”

“Right?” I respond. I’m very pleased.

It’s always good to have someone else join your party.

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The Mercedes Dream

My wife and I were traveling. Astonishment took me when I realized we were driving a light green 1978 Mercedes Benz 280 SEL. Solid, dependable, comfortable, the car was like a tank. “That’s the same car we had in Germany,” I told my wife.

She didn’t notice. We were rushing and had stopped for shopping at Costco. With dream time, we leaped from talking while entering the store to being at the checkout register. A male manager rang us up. We were still actually shopping as that happened, with my wife hustling up with last minute additions.

Medicine and food were being rung up. The manager was urging us to hurry because it was time to close. We were going to be the last ones. My wife put a bag of food our box of purchases. Picking it up, I told the guy that we wanted another one, so ring it up again, and I told my wife to get one more. As she carried that up, the manager rang up the final bill: $610.

The total shocked us. I suggested putting things back and wondered how the total had become so high. Nothing expensive was in the box and there wasn’t a lot.

But we ended up saying, “Okay, let’s just pay and go because time is running out. We need to get on the road.”

End of dream.

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