I just spent $15 looking for a parking spot. That’s what the afternoon’s getting-to-know-you encounter with Cars2Go amounted to. I just wanted to see how it all worked. The first car I found on Northern and 38th Avenue did not work. I tried to open the door by using the app, but nothing happened. After two tries I tried another car. That one worked. The interior was dusty as hell, and the radio was impossible to turn off. That last point became especially annoying as the drive wore on. Annoying songs came on the radio, further cluttering my already irritated mind. The only thing I could do was change the station. The volume button on the LED screen did nothing, and there was no analog button backup. Very fucking annoying.
I was reminded of something I heard about people who fall asleep at the hweel when driving long distances late at night. One guy’s solution was to find a radio station that played music he hated and just blast that music loud as hell. That kept him awwake. That was how this felt, though I was wide awake, and fortunately the radio was not blasting loud as hell.
And the cloud of dust: What the hell? It is not something a casual borrower will contemplate or, of course, do anything to remedy. just open the windows, I guess. But allergists may need not apply.
Car2Go uses the teeny-tiny Smart Car. That thing drove really well. I had heard from others who drove them that they drive like a “real” car, and this proved true. A well built ham can. The brakes were hyperactive. Parallel parking should dhave been easier given the additional clearance. But having not done it in so long I cut myself some slack. Even in that tiny car I was up on the sidewalk for a few rotations. But that’s just me.
All in all I think I’ll give Zipcar a try and see what I think. Something tells me that the money spent looking for parking alone would make up for any cost difference with Car2Go. Zipcar has its own parking lots. I could plan Car2Go trips around side-of-street times. or I could just start making money again and get my own damn car.
I owned a car some years ago. I no longer do but it is still “in the family”, if you will. I sold it to a friend who occasionally drives me up to City Island in that car. i am also welcome to borrow it any time, though i doubt I ever will. I have the keys to that car right here in pants pocket.
It was my dad’s car. I never liked having it here but would have found it difficult to sell at book price on account of the fully absorbed stench of cigarette smoke saturating every particle of the car’s interior. No problem for my chain smoking friend who bought it from me at a stupid discount. I never had a problem selling it cheap. I would have lost far more money waiting to sell it at book price. I would have been paying ~$350/month for insurance and parking all those countless months. And, as I alluded to, it remains “in the family” until it can no longer drive. So that is worth something to me.
This is the first time I have driven a car in something like 3 years, or thereabouts. Today reminded me of the rules of driving around here that I established back when I owned the car, but since forgot. Try not to turn left onto Avenues, unless there is a stop light, and be careful even if there is a stop light. It is almost impossible to see around the corners on account of all the curbside parking, and people speed along those avenues, meaning you have to turn very carefully. Basically I try always to turn right. It just seems to suit the pattern of the right-lane-centric nature of things. There are other rules but they elude me now that I am not behind the wheel. One rule of all roads is to turn the fucking radio off when you are trying to concentrate on something like finding a parking spot or parallel parking. That was major-league annoying.
I had always loved driving until I started driving around Astoria. It’s borderline hellish, even in the middle of a holiday afternoon. I think I want to drive more but I should take a train somewhere and get a car from a saner environment. Yes, I like to drive the automobile. I like the pod-like feeling of transient movement that feels quixotically stationary.
At the ghetto coffee shop. Going home to look for stuff to throw away or paper materials to scan and discard. This ghetto coffee shop has turned into a romper-room for the two little kids who work here. yeah, 8 or 9 year olds work here. I hope they are paid well. When not stocking shelves they are grabbing bottles of Poland Spring water off the shelves and throwing them around like basketballs, counting down “SHOT CLOCK! THREE… TWO… ONE…” And then the water bottle flies across the store, landing on the floor. One of them picks up the bottle and holds it to his mouth, talking into it like marv Albert, recounting the drama of the last game-winning shot. When they are done with their game they return the water bottle to the shelf.
