The Journey: A Journal Part 7 (The Final Battle)

 I woke up in Des Moines, Iowa at sunrise.  It was nearly 8am and I had slept a perfect 8 hours.  The rain had stopped outside.  I browsed the internet a tad further and it turns out sometimes if you press the start-engine button repeatedly on a C6 Corvette it will start and there'll be no need to jump it (which, I imagine, would be hard on the electrical system if you jump it every day).

  I pass Posh Spice's replacement, Iowa Jill at the reception desk and verify I was good to check-out.  I didn't get any breakfast, just some bottled water and a Diet Mt.Dew for the road, switching back to Atkin's as planned.

  I walked to Rosie and she was in-tact and unbruised.  Still getting used to her I remember my personal "First 30 Days Rule" which is that you should be very careful with a new vehicle of any kind because Entropy wants to destroy it, be it car, bike, submarine, or spaceship (or any combination of those).  I had programmed Rosie to open only when I was within 10 feet of her but otherwise lock-up completely and she unlocked when I approached.  I opened the passenger door first to put Cheesus Christ in the copilot's chair and the trunk "greenhouse" to put the mini-jumper box (which is now fully charged as I had plugged it in overnight just in-case.) and I noticed it also had a handy tire-inflator air-compressor as well.  I get into the driver's seat and prepare myself, ready for anything.



  After the second press, clutch depressed, she started right up; a much better sign.  I figure my way out the parking garage, the Ralph Bakshians no where to be found, after collecting their tolls, I suspect they went back under some bridge to count their earned threat-winnings.  There were a few speed-bumps within the garage and I was tenacious on hitting those, but interestingly, despite the incredibly low front-end of the 'Vette, it doesn't scrape on them ever.  I had test-driven one a month previously of the same breed (albeit $30k more expensive and 1 year newer) and noticed that indeed, it oddly doesn't scrape.  I must confess I had actually scraped the underside a tiny bit when I had that stint at the McDonald's / Gas Station when Exidor of the Rescue Rangers came to my aid (to add insult to injury) so it's "broken in" and not "brand new" now, which is a bit of a relief.   Anyway, I was careful (or so I thought) exiting the parking garage. 

A band gayer than the movie Twilight

   I get to the end of it, a Ford Taurus annoyed at my slow-going behind me and I consider directions.  I realize I'm pretty deep in town and not sure where I-80 was, be it left or right, but North was right so I went right.  The Ford honked a "Shave and a Haircut" jingle at me and it confused me while I was exiting.  I noticed cars parked facing me on both sides of the street.  Ah.  One way, and it's not my way.  No one was stirring so early so it was no dire consequence and I turned down a non-one-way road immediately, pull a U-Turn, and park on the side of the road and shake-off my sleepy stupidity (though I swear there was no sign coming out that garage!)  I activate the Nav and set my "Home" location to be, well, my home.  Only 755 miles to go.









  I get onto I-80 in PDQ fashion.  It's nice outside and I continue my Rush tunes.  The car still feels a bit alien to me and I take it easy.  I count no less than 30 state troopers pulling over victims through Nebraska.










  As I pass Grand Island city (a rather odd place) I'm beginning to run low on petrol and it's about 2pm so I stop and get gas.  Another McDonald's there but I ignore that in-favor of a "King Kong Burgers" joint behind it, because it looks retarded.  I walk into the gas station (a BP I think) and get a few more drinks and get Rosie to actually start after a few pushes of the button).  Exiting to go around the gas station I notice a worker pouring sawdust over a rather giant gas spill that spans about 30 feet around.  I make my way around that and her and she ignores my car and walks into my way which I stop abruptly.  She seems annoyed at me that I was in her way and I gladly wave her on where she gave me hate looks.  Shrug.  I'm sure her destiny is gonna be full of jelly-beans.. and balloons; balloons that float.

  King Kong Burgers is a Greek restaurant, themed with giant apes and a jungle setting.  On the ceiling are stuffed animals like some psycho-circus.  They serve burgers and Grecian fast-food which I grew up with.  I get their double and a Greek salad side.  Later I'm told these are a bit of a chain and I saw some non-reservist active-duty USAF kids there eating (where's the base in the middle of nowhere, some 40 miles outside of Grand Island?)  Weird.  The food was remarkably good and well-seasoned and the salad was well above-average, especially for Nowhere, Nebraska.  If you see one on a road-trip it'd be in your best interest to go.  Oddly, they served NY Strip steak as well, which is out-of-place but whatever.  Most Greek restaurants feature Hunt's Ketchup and they have it in loads, though there's packets of Heinz for the non-Greek fast-food uninitiated.  It't the only time you should use Hunt's as I'm a ketchup superfan expert.   As I'm leaving the short Greek fat owner (pretty much me in 20 years) stopped me while he was sitting, enjoying lunch at his own place (a good sign btw) and asked me by holding my arm if I didn't like the food, if something was wrong with it.  I mentioned it was probably the best burger I had in months but I didn't eat the bun and that I was full.  I couldn't eat any more!  Good value.  I patted him on the shoulder and told him it was good to his satisfaction.  Only a Greek man would put all of this together and think it'd work and be a good idea.  Oddly, it does work, and it's very good.



"Ginger" my original 1999 TransAm Firehawk

  I get in Rosie and she starts up after about 3 tries.  I find gear selection is rather acceptable.  It reminds me of my old TransAm Firehawk (1999 LS1) except without all the problems it had that I took care of with SLP modifications.  The car is as if it's "Ginger's" spirit (name of my old TransAm) evolved, Pokemon style.  I missed her quite a bit.  I had sold her to a USAF F-16 maintenance troop in South Korea being stationed in Florida where he just sold her recently.  I had put 89k miles on her and had done serious modifications, impressively so, but he hadn't done any decent necessary work on her, such as the timing-chain, etc. and had put an additional 10k or so miles on her, and had ruined the dash with a carpeted dash-mat ala 1991 which is just vile.  He offered me $14k that I had sold her to him for, and I countered with a significantly lesser amount, and he then sold her to someone else he wouldn't tell me who.. sometimes it's best to let old girlfriends move on.


  The rest of the trip was uneventful.  I work my way into Colorado through I-76 then down to I-70 to I-270 and then to I-25 to Fountain, Colorado.  I get home around 5pm MST which is pretty good.  I didn't get any tickets.  It was very boring and slow-going.  I opened her up briefly once or twice but otherwise kept it at the speed limit, the evil roads entering Colorado on I-76 taken-up pretty well by the magnetic-ride-control mechanism.  Right before I arrive, I wash the road off briefly so she doesn't look so bug-smeared.  I get home and have Becky help me judge distance to park in the garage and I lock her up, then I sleep for a long time.



 
  The next day I give it her first of two wax jobs and wash her and detail the inside which turns from gray to black (the leather and trim was so sun-bleached and unloved it soaked up nearly a quart of Maguire's NXT shine).  The scary dealer said he'd send me the manual as it was missing, but I found it in a second trunk cubby soaking wet with several other supplements, including a DVD in a leather bag holding it all together.  All soaking wet and moldy.  CarFax did not indicate any vehicular water-damage reported.  The cubby was bone-dry, as was the interior.  Since the car originated from Bowling Green, KY to Oregon, perhaps the original owner left the bag outside in the consistent rain?  Very odd.  Still, Rosie's home, Cheesus is refrigerated, and I survived The Journey.

 

 

Afterward

 

  You've read the epilogue earlier, but here's a bit of information to finish things off.  The troubling problem of her not starting continues throughout the week, though I never need to jumpstart her, she still fusses with a requirement of several start-button pressings.  I cut into Cheesus and eat a slab as is a man's right.  I freeze a good portion and send the rest to the Vatican for inspection. 

 

  Today, I took her this morning to a scheduled appointment at Daniels Long Chevrolet and for some reason she started the first pressing.  When I get to the dealership (15 minutes early) I turn her off while listening to life-sustaining XM (FM died when "Clear Channel" took over and killed it).  I put every Rush album on MP3 format on a stick (16Gb) and that's installed permanently in the USB cubby of the audio system onboard.  Rush on-demand now, 24x7.

 

 

  They have me drive her into a bay and she starts, first time again.  I shut her off and explain my situation and show them she doesn't always start and that it takes sometimes up to 10 tries before she'll start.  I then press start.. and.. starts right up.  I get fussy and do it again.. and again.. and again.  We try it 10 more times and .. she starts right up.  I can't think of anything I did differently.  Maybe Rosie and I are starting to get along?  Maybe she's warming up to me?  Maybe she got scared I was gonna leave her there for weeks until she gets fixed?  She has abandonment issues?  Maybe she self-healed?  I've known GM cars to do that, they self-heal themselves.  Maybe Becky's electromagnetic phenomenology fixed it?  Dunno.  I just dunno.  Really weird, but convenient.  Today, we went to see Star Trek: Into Darkness (of course, both of us being Trekkers) and each time she stared right up.  No problems.  Several times stop and start.  Played stop/start in the garage today a few dozen times too.  No problems.  I sometimes wonder if since Colorado is so dry, something wet dried-out?  Hard to tell.  I rode the car through a LOT of water in Iowa, though never enough that the hood was under water.  I just dunno.  Still, it's a good thing, and now I can get to vanquishing evil in its tracks, though the not starting reliably adds to the suspense in a horror movie, don't it?  Yep. 

 

The End

 

The Journey: A Journal Part 5

 

  So, in the dark, pouring rain, the car won't start.  I can't back it up to the gas pump so I'm about out of gas as well.  I try starting the car a few times with no luck.  I triple-check that the clutch is depressed, I put the manual in the neutral setting and try the start button again.  Instrument cluster goes from zero to maximum and back in a sweep and .. the starter doesn't engage.  Frustrated (and about 40 miles outside of Davenport) I press OnStar.

  It's nice to have OnStar in these situations.  I remember not too long ago that wasn't a possibility, and you'd have to call a tow-truck and shovel a lot of money in their direction.  Lauren (a sassy ebony woman) assured me a jump-start would be on the way as I suspected it was a dead battery.  She said the local business was called "Rescue Rangers" who would be coming.  I incredulously asked, "So you're sending a team of chipmunks to save me?"  She found this mildly amusing (as did I) and I waited in the car.  I had her attempt a diagnostic remotely as I had no OBD-II sensor plug-in and she said the car showed no faults.  Hmm..

  "Rescue Rangers" showed up and it was an old coot of a man that looked exactly like Exidor from Mork and Mindy and equally eccentric.  The transaction was similar to this:

  The jump did the trick and I got the car started, backed-up to the gas pump and while it was running filled up the tank and signed the OnStar form he had.  He then got real close to me and longingly looked over the horizon, "You know.. there's a barn 'bout 2 miles that-a-way where a few young-uns will help you check out that bat'try n' maken sure it's a'runnin' right."  I thanked him and he grinned toothily at me, almost wistfully, and paused .. and we paused, then he suddened-off in his small pickup in the rainy night.

 
  It was dark, but I found the tractor-shop/barn that was a bit of a general store setup with a few lights going-out 1930's style and I grudgingly did not shut-off the car in the parking-lot area as a few locals eyed me in the rainy dark.  The store had a few of those rather helpful jumpstart micro units with the cables attached for rather cheap ($29) and they were pre-energized which is very convenient and can also be charged from either a house AC adapter OR a DC 12-volt accessory plug.  Just what the doctor ordered!  Inside, I met the "young'uns" who were running a repair shop in the back.  I asked (though rather late) if they could change a battery out at this late hour and they scrambled to help!  I drove the car to a little bay in the barn and I warned them once it stops it ain't gonna start too easy. 

  Corvette batteries are in the trunk in a cubby-hole and it was very difficult to extract as it's a tight fit and we ripped our hands up a bit and bled over the battery cutting our hands on the plastic hole overhang.  I myself ended up getting it out with a battery puller they had lying around that I had noticed and it made it a bit easier.  They ran a full diagnostic on the battery via a neet computer tool and it showed 700 out of 680 (I forget which unit of measurement that was.. watts) so it was just above fully-charged.  This means the alternator is kickin' it great, which is a plus.  So the problem isn't the battery so I wondered if the two key fobs which transmit an FM signal were conflicting with each other and I walked back with key fob #2 back about 50 feet and had them re-install the battery and try to start it.  No luck.  They ran a full diagnostic with an OBD-II sensor and it showed no short-circuit in the system.  They hit the start-engine button again and it started no problem.  I told them, "I guess she doesn't like me yet!" 

  They wouldn't take any money (except the $29 for the mini-jumpstarter) and I tried to give them anything but they declined because they said their boss (? Exidor) would fire them.  I asked if they liked whiskey or cigars or something and they looked uncomfortable.  I asked if they were over 21 yet and they admitted they weren't so I had them write down their addresses (both of them) and I'd send them thanks through the mail.


  Engine running I was back on my way to Des Moines, Iowa.  Rain was coming down HARD now on a biblical proportion and it was very dark outside and I feared for my life, white-knuckling the steering wheel at an antiquated 10 and 2.  Large trucks splashed tsunamis over me but the car held true.  I hit deep pockets of puddled water on I-80 but she did not hydroplane and I was impressed as she has 325-width tires I expected a little slippage.  I fully expected to be in a ditch but after 4 more hours of night driving I made it to Des Moines city, the Nav-girl within the Corvette got me to the Savoy Renaissance Hotel by 11:00 pm where the only parking was a parking garage across the street (Des Moines is very similar in size to Colorado Springs but .. older looking, as if its hey-day was in the 1950s).  At the parking garage, three ebony gentlemen that reminded me of the crows from a Ralph Bakshi film were guarding the fortress.  Very sly-like, they indicated that they very much indeed liked my car, and it'd be shame if it got stolen, and that the cost of entry was $5.  So tired I slurred my thanks and chose the highwaymen's tariff protection-money, parked Rosie, feeling actually rather safe because I knew she wouldn't start without the mini-jumpstarter device (which I took with me) and trudged across the street to the surprisingly 6-star hotel.
 

  I asked the posh woman behind a neo-desk if indeed it cost $5 to park across the street, and if that was the true parking spot for the hotel and she admitted it was to my relief, and told her that I was glad I wasn't recently swindled by the older boys out front.  She chucked and said that they're always there, from Saturday 6pm to 12am as it's also an events parking location for a concert hall across the way.  Guess I made it just in time to pay, though I'm not complaining for my "insurance" premium here.


I placed the rather sweaty Cheesus-Christ in the full-sized fridge, ordered simple room service and checked the forums on the interwebs about C6 Corvettes having a start-engine button problem.  Turns out it's fairly common and most folks disconnect, then reconnect their batteries to get it to work.  At least there's a technical service bulletin on the matter.  I ate my way-too-high-end burger on a square bun, called Becky and told her I wasn't dead, then passed-out.  Only 740 more miles to go.  What could happen?

The Journey: A Journal Part 4

  Elrond had travelled me by way of a newer Chevy Impala and I took note the rough road, dreading the Corvette's abilities on such harsh pavement, particularly with the Grand Sport variety.  The Impala is a good car, and I had ridden in one before 10 years prior and know it's a soft ride, hence my apprehension.



2014 Chevy Impala LTZ interior

  Van Horn Chevrolet is, like I said, a rather small office area that reminded me of the Dodge dealership in Colorado Springs off of Platte and Chelton with late 1980's boxy, metallic desks and cold, Scandinavian-Design functional '80s chairs, square as can be with minimal padding for function, not form.  I half expected the 'Vette, "Rosie" to be in the lobby but it was not there, though a nice, supercharged 2012 ZL1 Camaro in juicy orange, arguably more of a car than what I was going to get.  I chat with the receptionist (another Chipmunky) about how she was happy I was getting the Corvette, etc. and how it was on their mini showroom floor for months and months and we waited for Brian the salesman.



Joe Van Horn Chevy chipmunky staff (actual photo from their blog page)  Can you pick out the chipmunks?  Yep.. all 3.  Win!

Elrond stayed with me, standing around.  I was told not to pay him, though I did by way of the malt, earlier.  Eventually, the dealer Brian Weiland who passive-aggressively ignored all my questions online showed-up and Elrond smiled and said my journey with him was complete and I saluted him casually, saying that there aren't a lot of good folks these days, but he was one of 'em.  He paused and thoughtfully smiled and pursued his own destinies.

Brian Wieland (actual photo)

  Brian very troll-like in shape and a bit frightening as trolls can only be killed by beheading ala coup-de-grace and/or fire as I prepare for a long battle as I don't have my lighter with me thanks to United Airlines rules about cigarette lighters but I don't need it as he's typical "Wisconsin-friendly".  It should be said that folks up in the upper-Midwest are typically nice fellows and pretty innocent-minded and fairly intelligent if not above-average for the US.  Rather wholesome like their dairy and good-natured with rarely a hidden agenda.  Pretty straight-forward.  Some from Michigan, Ohio, or Minnesota will squabble against each other, each territorially loyal, but honestly, from an outsider like myself, they're all of the same stuff.  All fine folks, hearty and healthy.  Chicago is another matter.





Apparently they hunt and caught The Wumpus here at Joe Van Horn Chevrolet!

 

  I was taken to the service garage area where cars were staged for departure and behold, Rosie was sitting low-slung and dark like a Marine's powder-coated bowie-knife, waiting.  I gave her a once-around and immediately checked the back exhaust to verify.. yes.. it did indeed have the NPP dual-stage exhaust where it's super-quiet under normal conditions and two butterfly-valves open-up when you romp on it: electronic cutouts that are a stock option (RPO code NPP: Dual-Mode Exhaust). 




My actual car Rosie.  A bunny is inside.  This was taken from thier website I hacked they forgot to remove.


  The car did not have the dual-roof package as suggested, nor the Plexiglas-only roof option, though of course, it did have the removable targa top.  Black-on-black stripes with black rims (the only Corvette I know of to have this combination) is stock for the Centennial 100 package, Louis Chevrolet plastered everywhere with riding goggles (in black, of course).  The suede seats were very clean, and the scraping I had complained about on the striker-plate for the previous owner's feet dragging across it was non-existent, apparently merely dirt.  The seat had rebounded as well a decent amount from it sitting all winter.  The car was very clean, though the interior was thirsty for conditioning by Maguire's products, and the leather was also a bit dry, both so much in fact that it was a hint gray more than black, and I wasn't sure if I had gotten the titanium or ebony interior (it turns out later it was the ebony, just very dried-out and unloved).  The floor mats and front-license plate mounting bracket (normally $50 for Corvettes) was included in the "greenhouse" trunk area and I installed the driver's floor-mat, removing the factory plastic covering the carpet.  The car smelled as new as factory can be, which was surprising.  The car had 2120 miles on it, give or take, according to the odometer, and I believed it.  I considered checking the oil but the oil-pressure gauge was reading satisfactory.  I throw the wheel of cheese in the backpack and put it on the passenger seat.  Wheel-of-Cheese "Cheese-us" is my co-pilot.



Cheese-us is my copilot.

 I get in and adjust the seat and steering wheel comfortably, and with the FM-transmitting fob, I hit the START ENGINE button.. nothing.  Made sure the shifter was in neutral, floored the clutch, hit start.. nothing.  A guy comes out and asks me how I like it.  I said it was great except it wouldn't start, to which he fussed and got jumper cables, had me pop the trunk (the battery's there on Corvettes, of course) and gave it a jump and she started right-up.  I carefully eased her out to the parking-lot area and contacted OnStar to do a diagnostic, set-up the car's phone number, and adjust audio settings for XM radio and the EQ settings as well.  I verified the CD player worked and that the Navigation DVD Rom was in-place.
 
  Brian came out and had me sign a few papers during this 20 minute setup.  I was going to call XM but they had already installed the service (which I found odd but nice).  I told Brian I wasn't going inside so as to leave it idling because I thought the battery was low on juice (it turns out later this was not the case) so he brought the last bits out for me to sign, put on the Wisconsin temporary plate good until August (I'll have to pay an exorbitant Colorado tax at 7.7% when I register it then).
  

 Knowing I'll be driving 500 miles or so before I stop in Des Moines, Iowa, I figure that should charge the battery just fine.  I make a few more adjustments to the computer's option section on the display screen, heads-up display that shows navigation directions, lateral-g's, speed, tach, etc. and I type in my destination hotel through the touch-screen navigation system (it finds it no problem in Iowa!)  The car's voice is a chiding 17-year-old girl (all GM cars have a distinctive voice for their system, my Saturn Sky Redline was an old man, my Saturn Astra XR is a younger guy, I suspect there's a finite number of voices, Becky's Saturn Sky had a middle-aged woman, and her Aura XR has a similar older man voice with slight variation from my Sky Redline).

 
  I pop-in Rush's eponymous album (I brought the box set of 20 CDs of cousre) and I head-out, attempting to not burn-rubber (unsuccessfully) and my first challenge starts immediately.  Geddy Lee screams, "YEAH, oh, yeah!" from the song Finding My Way.  (listen along above for full experience)
 

I have to go left from the dealership but there's a mini-curb I have to jump over.  I'm concerned I'll bottom it out so early-on but amazingly Rosie handles it with pride.  No worries as I take Highway 57 south to Hwy 43 south to Milwaukee and then onto Davenport.




  I merge very carefully onto Hwy 57 and begin the what I expect to be a bumpy ride.
 
  The navigation time is off, set to Pacific Time and I adjust it to Central Time and I adjust the sound system such that it will get louder as you drive with a few button presses.  I notice a loud wind-noise coming from the back and pull-over within a few miles at a gas-station.  They had left the battery cover cubby door open and I re-attach it, snapping it in-place, making note of the battery itself and its location and head-out again, trying not to burn rubber merging back onto Hwy 57 (again, unsuccessfully, though not trying as hard this time).

   I find the bumps in the road are far-muted and I take note of the "Tour" mode selected on the magnetic-ride-control knob by my right arm.  I switch it to "Sport" and after about 2 seconds the road is unbearable and quickly put it back to "Tour" where it will stay.

  The car smells overwhelmingly fresh and plastic-y and I notice all the fake leather everywhere, driving rather slowly.  Speed is an odd sensation in this car.  25 mph seems like 120 mph (and later I discover the opposite is also true).  It's hard to gauge your own speed as it all seems the same and there is absolutely NO sensation of it as if it's been stripped. There's no concern of going too fast, ever. Rosie is just as happy going 100 as she is going 10 with no difference in sound or visual input from the road. I find it's hard to shift nicely between 3rd and 4th, though the car does not stall or bog in any gear, which I find again numbing and unusual. I mistakenly shift from 1st to 6th, missing 2nd, and 4th entirely as I misjudged the distance of the shift-gate size the first few times, and despite the tachometer drooping to 400 rpms where most cars would lug, the car  pulls due to the infinite torque it has. 

Jeremy Clarkson of BBC's Top Gear reviews the Corvette line

  Jeremy Clarkson from the BBC show Top Gear mentions you can go from 0 to 200 in 6th gear which he finds astonishing.  I do to.  Very forgiving and the car accelerates hard in any gear, again, numbing the concept and making it misleading as to what you're actually doing.  Brakes are sharp and responsive without being grabby, and I'd say much better than the Lotus Elise I owned, and miles better than the LS1-Corvette-inspired (sharing many of the same parts at-the-time) 1999 Pontiac Firehawk.  Handling is exceptional and there is no body roll to speak-of.  The car handles better than anything I've owned.  The seats, despite the deep pockets you can fall into, and are very very comfortable, don't (somehow) keep you planted in a sharp turn and you tend to roll out of it, for what reason I have no idea.  I played with the adjustable side bolsters, inflating them to a vice grip and still, at any turn, despite the solid horizontal tracking of the flat-spin of the car keeping true, you're still flung about in the seat somewhat, more-so than even a Honda Civic or two I've owned, which I find odd as frack.  They are very comfortable seats though and absorb the road harshness even more due to ample padding.  Interestingly, these seats are extra-bolstered from 2011 on this 2012 version.  I am horrified to know what folks were using before on the C6 Corvettes, let alone the C5s!  The seats are still, despite a lot of goodies like lumbar support and 9-directional adjustment very cheaply constructed.  Indeed, it's only 75% leather-wrapped.  Later I find that the side-bolsters towards the center console are fabric to save a buck.  Hard braking pulls the seat forward a bit, and hard acceleration pushes it back; not much but enough to know that there's play in the construction.  All Corvette C6s have this, and I acknowledged it beforehand.  It's an American car and you're getting some cheapness no matter what you do.  It's expected.   I can imagine someone who paid the full-on price for this Grand Sport Centennial 3LT at $79,000 plus tax would be non-plussed quite a bit!  Luckily I only paid $49,000 so it's almost worth the cheesiness of it (Wisconsin cheese wheel "Cheese-Us Christ" still in the passenger seat, enjoying the ride).
 
  I play around with the heads-up display which becomes useful to gauge the speed as a reminder, and directions are displayed in the glass for me so I don't have to glance at the Nav system.  I figure how to increase the volume of the Nav girl voice which is independent of the volume control knob and it's time for the next Rush CD, Fly by Night as I engage Milwaukee.  I call Becky on the built-in car phone and it works well and let her know I'm enroute.
 
  The Nav picked the same route I had done via Google Maps which was pleasant.  The graphics on it are about 10 years antiquated but satisfactory and it has traffic-avoidance features and re-route features as well, and gives exits in full-graphics as well, though I didn't avoid (or recognize on my own calibrations at home) that there was a few toll-roads I was on, and paid as necessary the dollar here and there on Hwy 88 to Davenport.  By now I had gotten through Fly by Night and the much-hated (though I like it) Caress of Steel and into 2112.  As the song "Tears" starts, it starts to rain, and Rosie is baptized right when Geddy sings, "Tears that fall from eyes that know why.."  Cool.
 
 Cruise control is nice as I go no more than 5 over (I purposely did not bring my radar detector so I'd be a good boy) as I count no less than 30 State Troopers the whole distance, pulling folks over and feeding on their impatients and love of speed like wolves feeding on bunnies.
 
  It's raining pretty good now and I'm not sure how the car will react with 325-width tires with race-tread, it being, of course, rear-wheel-drive, but surprisingly it handles fine and I have no indication of slippage.

  I decide to get past Davenport and it's about 6pm and I haven't eaten and it's about time for gas so I stop at a McDonald's gas station area.  Rain is coming down in buckets and it's getting dark. 
 I hadn't played with the gears and monkey them wrongly, picking 6th too many times as I maneuver through the off-ramp to the fast-food joint, the Nav system chiding me passive-aggressively with sighs and fusses the way a 17-year-old girl-in-charge might.  I eat quickly a number 4 (formerly a number 2 years ago) and hop back in the car and press Start Engine.  Lights flicker, the dash gauges bounce through their initialization cycle and then.. nothing..  Dead.