If you upgraded to Windows Vista, you have my sympathies. Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a brand new computer that gives you the finger and then chokes on its own vomit. And then there's the incompatibilities. My new IBM box didn't cost half as much as the software upgrades required for Vista compatibility. Some apps wouldn't 'compat' at all, requiring abandonment of old favorites for new-fangled and unfamiliar replacements. ...that don't work.  No upgrade pricing.

So, why extend this frustration to your automobile, your 'baby?' Well, car computers (or "carputers," if you're übercool) promise the ultimate in on-the-go convergence, merging your favorite devices and mobile apps into one machine, and then adding sprinkles. It's a fancy new breed of PC cat. Now, if only it wouldn't pee on your upholstery.

Read more...

If Congress bails out the American auto industry, what's next, prostitution?  I mean, automobiles aren't the only industry affected by a waning economy.  Without the 'fun money' we once had, Americans are buying fewer Hummers and, coincidentally, fewer hummers than before.  After all, whores aren't so different from union autoworkers.  What are they supposed to do when society can no longer afford an Escalade, a Hot Karl?  What will put food on the table when nobody buys a Tahoe, a Rusty Trombone, a Rear Admiral?  Hookers gotta eat too.  I'm speaking literally, you pervert.

Read more...

Living in the Sierra has its pluses and minuses.  For drivers, the mountain roads are fun, even at modest speeds.  On the downside, you'll stow your Porsche for up to six months out of every year (unless, of course, your other car is a Cayenne - you smug bastard).  But then, snow means skiing, the speed junkie's winter surrogate.  This week, we received our first dump of Tahoe pow pow and this got me to thinking about a young snowboarder I met on a chairlift last season, the son of a Highway Patrol officer.

Yes, I shared a chair with hellspawn.  My reaction?  Well, three things occurred to me:

• Eject him from our perch of 30' up.  Listen for the thud.  Laugh hysterically.
• Bitch, bitch, bitch about speeding tickets.  Insist he owes me lunch.
• Pick his brain.  Guile him into revealing the "secret word."
  

I chose the latter.  I know, I know - "Pussy!"  But then, this, it would turn out, was a worthwhile choice.  This animated and outspoken child of the Dark Side revealed how he'd received three warnings for speed, but never a ticket.  "Huh?!"  My eyebrows lifted.  "M-m-might you share your ninja secrets with this humble gaijin?"  And he did.

Read more...