Motorin'

My wife and I have 4 cars, but one of them is my baby. However, like any baby…it requires a lot attention. It's my Mercedes SLK 320 (with AMG Sport Package).

I don't want to discuss performance; otherwise I will get carried away talking about mine being the fastest time of the day at our MBCA (Mercedes Benz Club of America) Autocross event three weeks ago. (Note the trophy plaque in the photo below....braggin in your own blog...how pathetic.)

Instead, I want to finally clear the air about how much work it is to operate the radio while driving with the top down. I live just off of US31. US31 is a 55 mph 4 lane highway, but it has crossroads and stoplights. That means that each time I stop at a light, invariably someone pulls up next to me, causing me to scramble to change the radio to something far more hip than what I was really listening to.

While passing long lines of cars at very high speeds, I can be belting out "Looks Like We Made It" right along with Barry Manilow. However, at the next light I have to quickly punch up a station that is playing something more along the lines of Van Halen's "Hot For Teacher." 5 seconds after the light turns green, with the car back up to 60 mph, I can jump back to Barry for a strong finish to our duet.

This morning, though, something different happened when I switched to Sirius Radio's Classic Rewind while stopped at a red light. I hit the radio preset and found Night Ranger. Immediately an entirely different set of obsessive compulsive activities started. Sister Christian is a trigger song for me. Like the folks who would act out The Rocky Horror Picture Show down in front of the screen on Friday nights back in college…I do a one man production of Boogie Nights every time I hear Night Ranger's Sister Christian. Here is how today's show went.

I immediately went to the glove box, grabbed the firecrackers, started lighting them off, and tossing them in the air.

Next I grabbed my long-hair wig and bathrobe from under the seat and started doing air keyboard, transitioning into air drums, followed by full-blown windmill air guitar each time the song would crescendo toward "MOOOOTTTTTTOOOOORRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I suppose that I should mention that even though my one man show starts with the Sister Christian scene, once the song is over I actually turn the radio off and play out the full film from there. (We've established it's obsessive compulsive behavior, folks…I cannot control it.)

Normally, it goes pretty well, but today was different. Because just as I got ready to roll the credits, having given myself a pep talk in the mirror as I vainly tried to convince myself that I am still a star…I looked up to find my only audience member was an Ottawa County Sheriff.

If anyone in West Michigan knows a good bail bondsman, please have him give me a call. I am currently in the Fillmore Detention Facility under the name of D. Diggler.