Too Big, Too Small - Humor Column

 

Too big, too small, clearly not 'just right'

As I am getting older, I am learning that "Goldilocks" applies to cars as well. 

 

When I was younger, I had a hankering for low to the ground sports cars. Not that there were many of those in Ketchikan when I was growing up. There were a few speedy models, but it was always hard to drive them into and out of the pothole farms that pass as roadway here. 

 

I also liked Big A-- trucks and jeeps too. Back in the day, there were fewer of those around. Now it seems like 4 out of every 3 infernal combustion vehicles in Ketchikan is a Big A—truck. Making every parking lot an exercise in taking your life into your hands. And not successfully. 

 

These days, neither big truck nor small car is a good fit for me. 

 

Neither is "just right" anymore. 

 

For example, my wife has a low to the ground Toyota (not a sports car in anyway shape or form). It's okay to drive, as long as you don't' mind having to look up to see the under carriages of every other car on the road. Natch, there is a value to being able to drive completely under some of the other cars on the road. 

 

But it is nearly impossible to get out of.  At least for me. 

 

A while back I saw a Facebook video of "an old man getting out of a Ferrari." He, or course, had to literally crawl out of the low-slung Spider and then fumble around getting back to his feet with the help of a cane. 

 

Ha, ha, ha, ha. 

 

Actually, not so funny.   

 

When I step out of my wife's “Not A Ferrari,” my knees have to bend beyond what is a guaranteed point of self-recovery. It is a great struggle to get upright again.  Not a good feeling. 

 

So, low slung cars – cool as they look - are really not an option for me anymore. Unless there is a James Bond ejector button to fling me skyward onto the sidewalk. 

 

Apparently, Big A—trucks aren’t an option either. 

 

I got off The Rock recently. 

 

Hmmm, that doesn't quite sound right, does it? 

 

Seriously, though, nothing about travel is 'right' anymore, is it? 

 

That thought occurred to me as I found myself standing around with a group of strangers putting our clothes back on in the airport and it seemed like we had missed a step or two.

You know, the drinks.

The dinner.

The hanky panky. 

 

But I digress. 

 

Anyway, I went elsewhere, and part of my trip involved a rental car. At the counter, they informed me that my chosen reserved car (bland middle of the road vehicle) was not available. Would I mind a pickup truck? 

 

Well, heckfire, yeah!!! 

 

For one thing Big A-- trucks convey status. I am driving a land leviathan around therefore I am person of parts. 

 

Even more important, I can afford to put $6 a gallon gas in this monster. I am clearly someone who owns an oil company. 

 

For another thing, I love command seating, especially when I am navigating in unfamiliar territory. Looking down on the other cars is awesome! 

 

And for another-nother thing, folks in other cars tend to give you a wider berth when you are careening around in a big truck with observably rusty big truck driving skills (you pull into the traffic flow, stomp on the pedal, and about 20 seconds later the 400 horses kick in and the truck launches forward like the Space Shuttle). 

 

So, there I was, off The Rock, enjoying tooling around in a big truck. 

 

And therein was the challenge.

Trucks have gotten so gargantuan these days that unless you are six feet something, (which I, most assuredly, am not) you can't ingress or egress one without looking like an adult klutz trying to negotiate kiddie chairs in an elementary school class.  Only in this case you are the tiny person in the Edith Ann chair. And that’s the truth. Look it up. 

 

Sure, they have running boards and all manner of handholds (am I climbing into a truck or am I climbing El Capitan?), but it doesn't make it any easier to get up into the thing.

If you are average or less in height, getting into a Big A-- truck just looks awkward. 

 

Yeah, I know, you are asking the obvious question. How does this work for all the guys suffering from Small Man Syndrome who buy Big A-- trucks to compensate for their other shortcomings? You see SMS’s in big trucks all the time. 

 

I don't know. Maybe, they extreme lowrider the thing, so that it goes flatter than a municipal bus and they just step into it like the shower. 

 

At any rate, (5 percent?) I digress. Again. 

 

Next up, is the egression from the “Cab” of the Big A—truck. Note that no one ever says their car has a “cab”” unless of course it is an actual taxi. I once went for a ride in a real life, fully armored tank. It did not have a “cab.” It did not need one. But trucks need to have a "cab." Go figure.

 

You have arrived at your destination, turned off the onboard computer (that constant reminder that your gas mileage is between 2 and 3 mpg is irritating anyway), and pulled into what amounts to three and a half parking spots. 

 

Now, you have to figure out a way to deplane from your ride without looking like a complete idiot. In the five days of my trip, I never accomplished that. Not once. 

 

First, I tried to use the running board, but they are never quite wide enough and you find yourself dipping one of your toes out of the cab and swinging your foot around as you try to locate the safety of the running the board. Then you step out and slide off the edge of it. Not a good look. 

 

Next, I tried to just go past the running board all together. That wasn’t a good idea. 

 

That was one long fall, there. And naturally, I did not stick the landing. 

 

Awkward, again. 

 

I’d like to say, I eventually found a smooth way to get into and out of my Big A— Truck rental. 

 

I would also like to say that I won the lottery. 

 

Neither is true. 

 

But self-knowledge is priceless. 

 

From now on, I will stick with middle sized SUV. 

 

It may not be a perfect car, but for now it is just right. 

 

As long as there is room for my walker in the back.