Lately I’ve been wondering (a) when a car manufacturer will produce an interesting and affordable plug-in electric sedan, and (b) if I really want to keep my high-performance Teutonic gas-guzzler until then. (Blatant rationalization – I drive very few miles, preferring to use my bicycle or the Sausalito Ferry whenever possible.)
Herewith, a not-so-brief history of how I came to this automotive fork in the road:
My Fiat Spider -- aka "Giovanni"
Once upon a time I owned a ‘79 Fiat Spider. This was originally my mother’s car, red with a tan interior, but the novelty of driving a convertible had worn off for her, and I was only too happy to relieve her of it. It was the perfect car to start one’s adult working life in San Francisco, except for the first year when I had to park it on the street (on Telegraph Hill, where parking spaces are as hard to find as bad espresso). After some low-life knifed through the soft top to steal the stereo, I gritted my teeth (and barred my bank account) and bought a condo – with garage – in Pacific Heights, at what turned out to be the absolute bottom of the previous real estate cycle. Thank you, knife-wielding low-life!
I owned the Fiat for over a decade and it was only moving to Mill Valley and again having to park it outside (albeit under a carport roof) that forced its sale – the carbureted engine balked at starting on cold mornings (no jokes please – my Italian mechanic was named Angelo, not Tony, and the Fiat only spent some of the time in his shop).
My old Alfa 164L -- aka "Umberto"
Still a sucker for Italian cars (my father had owned two Alfas), I bought a used but clean ‘92 Alfa Romeo 164L sedan (manual, of course), again in red with an elegant black leather interior. I loved that car – the perfect combination of sporty (how that 3 liter V-6 growled!) and sophisticated. (My “so-called” buddy Arthur used to tease me by referring to it as a Fiat, but he drives an Acura or some such Japanese clone, so what can you say?) Eventually the Alfa depreciated to the point where occasional major repairs seemed an exercise in futility. And the lack of airbags (except for one – ostensibly – on the driver’s side) seemed imprudent with a family. But what to replace it with? I just couldn’t find anything that excited my passion like that Alfa.
Finally, reluctantly, I looked at the BMW 5 series. I say reluctantly because I didn’t want to be driving around in yet another set of “Basic Marin Wheels.” And German cars were always frowned upon in my family (my English mother resented being bombed by the Luftwaffe during the Blitz). But a test drive in a used 540i showed me what all the fuss was about. Marco, a car buff buddy of mine, convinced me that, if I was looking at a 540, then I should go the whole hog and check out the M5. That seemed way over the top, but curiosity got the better of me and I found a pristine, low mileage 2002 M5 for sale in San Rafael for less than what a new Camry cost, loaded. The test drive (wow!) and the color – Imola red – sealed the deal. It seemed an homage to my Fiat and Alfa, with the added bonus of German engineering and reliability.
The M5 -- aka "the Beast"
The other reason I splurged on the M5 was that I’d been having a terrible year. The American electorate had taken leave of it collective senses and reelected Bush 43 to the White House, despite my diligent efforts on behalf of the Kerry campaign. Then my faithful Border collie, Scout, contracted cancer and died. These and some other personal woes put me in need of a pick-me-up. So I thumbed my nose at global warming (pace Al Gore) and purchased a six-speed, 400 horsepower luxury sedan capable of going 185 mph (don’t ask – the Nevada Highway Patrol tells no tales).
Now don’t get me wrong – driving the M5 has been, and still is, a blast. But I feel like I’ve (mostly) gotten over my mid-life automotive crisis and am ready to drive something, well, more responsible. But not too responsible. I am, let’s face it, the son of a man who has owned an Aston Martin, two Morgans and a Lotus, so a Prius is probably not going to make the grade. Now this Tesla Model S I keep reading about – that sounds interesting. The only problem is the price, still an unknown (it’s due out in 2011) but probably north of $50K. My penchant for nice cars, combined with my modest means, has meant that I let other people buy new cars, then wait for them to depreciate. So in the meantime, if you see some asshole tooling around in a red Beemer that could eat a Detroit muscle car for lunch, don’t be too quick to judge. It could be yours truly, waiting eagerly for that next step on the road to vehicular nirvana.