I had some ideas about some blog entries that may have outlive their usefulness, their timeliness. For example, I was going to write about Cash for Clunkers, that insanely popular economic stimulus program. I had it all planned in my head. I would have titled it “Auto-erotica,” after the series in the sadly-departed blog, Expecting Rain. 
I was going to start with a brief synopsis of the conditions the government placed on the rebates (for example, your car had to have an Environmental Protection Agency estimated eighteen miles-per-gallon or fewer), and follow that with an analysis of some of the data the government reported about the program. I was going to report about how the government reported that the four of the top six trade-ins were versions of either Ford Explorers or Jeep Grand Cherokees, mainly from the years 1995 through 1997. Then I would have segued into a zeitgeist-capturing description of the years those cars were released, contrasted that economic climate with the current one, and I would have thrown in some personal details of my life at the time to really enhance the verisimilitude of the story. For example, I would have mentioned my high school companion, Aaron Eng, and how his parents bought him a forest green Cherokee, and how he modified it with a spoiler and a subwoofer, and how, even at the time, I questioned the desirability of such a vehicle (fifteen years later, you can see I was proven right). I probably would have also mentioned how Christopher Shim rolled his parents Explorer, also forest green, when he drove across a driveway that was too steep (true story, I swear to gods). At this point, I would have pointed out how at the time I began to see Explorers and Grand Cherokees everywhere, and they were all forest green, and how these vehicles were mere harbingers of an automotive trend, how Sport Utility Vehicles multiplied and mutated, how they were no longer vehicles of function, but of excess, of luxury, how you didn’t purchase an SUV because you cared about doing anything sporty—you bought these extra large cars to haul around your status. And I wrote this all in my head, and you can see it would have made a fascinating blog entry indeed, especially if had bothered to post links or pictures of the offending cars. Buy my intellect is a lazy one, and once I had it all written out mentally, that was good enough.
I was going to mention that the whole reason I was writing about Cash for Clunkers in my head, was because I participated in the program, and I have a new car now. I was going to write about my new car is Scion xD, and how weird it is to have a car whose model is also an emoticon, and how I nearly avoided Scions all together because I found their website so fucking obnoxious. I was going to blog about that, but I didn’t because I didn’t think it was that interesting. Sure, I could have told an amusing anecdote about how I was looking for a Toyota Yaris, but all the dealers I went to only had one Yaris left, and every time that Yaris was sea foam green (not kidding). Had I written this part of the blog entry, I would have also mentioned that my car salesman’s name was Art, and he looked like Artemis Gordon from that old television show Wild Wild West. But again, not that interesting.
And after I was done talking about my new car I was going to talk about my old car. I was going to go into some boring details, like how the car was twenty-one years old, and how I’d had it for nine years, and how I’d put like 12,000 miles on it. And I was going to list all the things that were wrong with it, like how the windshield had been cracked for five or so years, how the heater had two settings: off or high, how the electrical was fucked so I had no stereo and one of the headlights was permanently burned out, how the rotors were warped so when I hit the breaks the entire car shuddered like it was going to fall apart, and most of all how the transmission didn’t go in reverse when it was cold so I did a lot of backing into parking spaces. Then I would have pointed out how Car and Driver named my old car, the Merkur XR4Ti, one of the Ten Best in 1985, then later rescinded that acclaim, ranking it number five in “The Ten Most Embarrassing Award Winners in Automotive History.” I was going to write about how Eli dubbed it the X-Wing because of the model number, the boxy shape of the cockpit, but most of all because when I started the car the dashboard lit up “like Artoo is talking to me.” I was going to write about how I bought the car in 2000 for $2000 and traded it in this year for the full $4500 rebate, which seems like kind of a good deal. Then I would have concluded by saying I do not miss that car at all.
And after I was done talking about my new car I was going to talk about my old car. I was going to go into some boring details, like how the car was twenty-one years old, and how I’d had it for nine years, and how I’d put like 12,000 miles on it. And I was going to list all the things that were wrong with it, like how the windshield had been cracked for five or so years, how the heater had two settings: off or high, how the electrical was fucked so I had no stereo and one of the headlights was permanently burned out, how the rotors were warped so when I hit the breaks the entire car shuddered like it was going to fall apart, and most of all how the transmission didn’t go in reverse when it was cold so I did a lot of backing into parking spaces. Then I would have pointed out how Car and Driver named my old car, the Merkur XR4Ti, one of the Ten Best in 1985, then later rescinded that acclaim, ranking it number five in “The Ten Most Embarrassing Award Winners in Automotive History.” I was going to write about how Eli dubbed it the X-Wing because of the model number, the boxy shape of the cockpit, but most of all because when I started the car the dashboard lit up “like Artoo is talking to me.” I was going to write about how I bought the car in 2000 for $2000 and traded it in this year for the full $4500 rebate, which seems like kind of a good deal. Then I would have concluded by saying I do not miss that car at all.
