- 2001 Chevrolet Cavalier that was declared a total loss when a young, sporty urbanite in a Toyata slammed into my passenger side door, causing irreversible frame damage last Christmas. Because this happened in the Dulles Airport parking lot, we were both declared at fault (the absence of stop signs meant nothing to my insurance company).
- 2005 Chevrolet Cobalt that was fun to drive, but was recalled by the manufacturer for a handful of electronic problems, chief among them being the automatic anti-theft fuel-pump shutoff device that would demonstrate its efficacy by shutting off fuel when I would drive it.
- 198? Ford Festiva lent to me in Juneau, whose hatch-back flew open on windy days, became airborn, and whose brakes grinded away to a Flinstone's foot pedal. The mechanics said I was lucky to be alive.
- And now: a 30 year old VW convertable Bug lent to me for a few days last week by some friends I was housesitting for. This car had the wackiest transmission I've ever seen. But last Friday night, it also CAUGHT FIRE as I was riding back from rehearsal. Imagine me in a white flaming convertible Bug in SW DC after dark as roving gangs of local kids shout: "Mmm! You on fire, motherfucker! Get out the car!"
I have a lovely post about Doubt, Intelligent Design of Jenny Chow, Intelligent Design, and other stuff coming soon. But right now I gotta catch a bus.
Instead of VW Bug, it really should be the VW Moth.