But this just looks right...

Well I must admit I miss the rush of taking Pete's Audi for a spin with the top down, but we all know that when you get down to it I'm a SAAB guy. I found this baby on the side of Highway 12 in Sonoma; my co-worker spotted it. It's a 1991 SAAB 900S with 164,000 miles on it, in remarkably good condition. I had it checked out by Universal Auto in Sonoma who gave it a more or less clean bill of health, and did a bit of work on it. Well, it has a coolant leak -- I think that it's a just cracked expansion tank -- we'll see tomorrow. 1991 introduced the 2.1 liter naturally-aspirated four in the "S" cars, which has the reputation of being the most problematic of the classic 900 engines, but I think it should take me a few more miles. I'd like to swap in a rebuilt turbo engine someday; it would probably cost me a few grand, but it would still be much cheaper than a whole new car.

There is one big problem though -- the heated seats don't seem to be working. The guy who sold it to me swore that they worked, and maybe they did before it sat through this rainy winter. Maybe a mouse took a liking to some wiring? Maybe somebody stood on a seat and broke the wire in it when they were cleaning it up? Anyway, I'm going to find out.

And I really hope that nobody runs into me -- although it seems they're trying. Going around the bend between Ravenswood and Viansa today, there was a tractor coming the other way on the highway with its blinkers on, and a long line of cars waiting patiently behind it. All except one -- a brand new silver Corvette, screaming towards me in my line AROUND THE FUCKING BEND. I hit the brakes (he didn't) and we came within probably 3 feet of highway head-on collision. I mouthed "motherfucker" and drove on -- but I swear to you if we'd collided, I was about this close to pulling his battered, midlife-crisis body out of that fiberglass piece of shit and beating out of him whatever life was left. The other accident was, at least, just that, a simple accident caused mostly by road conditions; this was a really, really stupid decision that could have easily cost that asshole his miserable life -- and mine, which I was planning to do some things with. Right on the other side of the bend, a few hundred feet away, is a straightaway with a dotted center line for passing, but no, he just couldn't wait.

I hope that he realizes what a lucky guy he is tonight; if I had been driving Brett's car (which has shitty brakes compared to the old SAAB) or if I just hadn't been paying attention, he would've ended up with that big ol' engine on his lap.