8/29/2007

Makes Me Want To Buy A Chrysler

By: Courtney Messenbaugh

On May 22, 2007, one family was forever changed when gunmen stormed an Illinois Federal Savings Bank in Chicago, killing Tramaine Gibson Sr., a husband and a father of seven. Gibson worked as a teller at the bank and attended college part-time, working toward a degree in criminal justice. He was an active member of his church, ministering to the youth and the community. His was a very promising life cut short.

Last week, as Chrysler released the 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan and Chrysler Town & Country minivans to Chicago dealers, the automaker donated that area's first 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan to the family of Tramaine Gibson.

The cynical side of me knows why Chrysler did this (publicity galore, good corporate citizenship), and when I told my husband about it, he scoffed that their motivations weren't “pure.” Personally, I say who cares about Chrysler's motivations?

Call me a sucker, but I'm touched by this — it's personal and it's meaningful. It is a small gesture toward one family for whom it will make a difference. I like random acts of kindness, and as a result, I'm loving Chrysler for doing this. I know that's what the company wants; in fact, I'm probably the target market Chrysler wants to reach with this donation. I'm a middle-class, married mother of one, thinking about having more children and knowing my Volkswagen Jetta won't last as my family grows. Stories like this almost make me want to buy a Town & Country, even though long ago, when I was younger and much cooler, I swore I would never drive a minivan. Life never turns out how you imagined it would, does it?

I'd encourage every car manufacturer to give away cars to folks who really need them. Go ahead and publicize it — get into a big, philanthropic competition. It's cheaper than primetime TV spots, and they would be acting as benefactors to people who could really use some help.

8/29/2007

While You're at it, Get Me One, Too

By: Courtney Messenbaugh

It seems like every tabloid or glossy magazine cover I see these days has a picture of Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton or Nicole Richie, accompanied by a headline about some driving mishap and the ensuing charges or jail time. "Will Nicole Have Her Baby in Jail?" "Lindsay Takes Hostages and Tries to Mow Down Friend's Mom," "Paris Miserable With ADD in Jail," are among the headlines I've read.

Driving in Los Angeles must be like being on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride with all these starlets behind the wheel. For the sake of us all, I offer the following advice, free of charge, to these ladies and all who come after them: Hire yourselves a driver! Seriously, you're all businesswomen of a certain sort, with myriad people on your payroll. I cannot believe no one has yet suggested this to you. With a driver, you could engage in all that shameless debauchery you seem to enjoy so much without running such a high risk of harming yourself or others on the road — not to mention the fact that it would seriously diminish your chances of having to do jail time while pregnant.

As I've been thinking about these ladies' need for a driver, it's started me lusting after a driver of my own. How great would life be if I had my own personal driver? On any given day, me getting into the car looks something like this: I'm jostling my son in his car seat, lugging the diaper bag, folding up the stroller, trying to shove my purse onto my shoulder, carrying my laptop and shoving any other necessary belongings into the car. With a driver, I would simply take my son and place him in the backseat with me while the driver calmly loaded everything else into the trunk for us.

Once settled, I could read my trashy tabloids and catch up on the latest Paris/Lindsay/Nicole/Britney "news." I would sip my coffee or champagne — depending on whether it was day or night — and make sure my son had a nice warm bottle of milk. I would spend the drive lounging in the backseat, returning all those phone calls I've been delinquent on for the past year. Most importantly, when my son started to fuss I would be right there, ready to comfort him — or at least attempt to — and wouldn't have to feel bad about letting him scream solo in the back until we got home. Bliss, indeed.

As long as I'm daydreaming, I'm thinking that in exchange for my sage advice to Paris and the others, perhaps they could pay for my driver, too. They certainly seem to pay the people around them for much worse advice, so maybe I have a shot!

8/27/2007

All Hail the Bus Driver

By: Emily Hansen

I have lots of memories of the school bus from my childhood. I lived in a neighborhood where I could walk to elementary school every day, which caused me to suffer from a disorder I call Partridge Family Syndrome (for my pop-culture-challenged friends, check it out here). I desperately wanted to ride the big yellow bus and gazed with envy every time one passed. In my mind, that school bus was just like the psychedelically colored bus from "The Partridge Family." I don't think they ever showed the interior of the Partridge bus, but I was sure it was decked out with a drum set, a super-cush couch and all the soda I could drink (I dreamed big then, huh?).

That vision was obviously shattered the first time I got on the school bus in seventh grade. The cranky driver and rowdy kids in back (Me? No, that wasn't me...) were stuff made more for nightmares than dreams of David Cassidy. OK, fine, so it really was all about the boy, not the bus.

I hadn't thought about my bus fantasy for years until my oldest child went off to kindergarten. At that point my perspective had obviously changed; the crabby bus driver of my youth became the cautious, take-no-crap, make-order-out-of-chaos hero of my parental world. This person gets my kids to school safely and has the grand opportunity to be the first adult outside of mom and dad to impact my children positively every day. I have a huge amount of respect for those who take that responsibility seriously.

Unfortunately, I think many people haven't had this "respect the yellow" epiphany. At least once a week I see someone blow by a bus's stop sign or grow too impatient to continue to wait for the lights to stop flashing and the sign to lay flat. Have these people lost their minds? Are they really in so big a hurry they can't wait a few minutes for the kids to get on or off the bus?

"Back to school" is upon us, so please watch out for the big yellow bus. Do some deep breathing if that five-minute wait really stresses you out, and, most of all, channel your inner rule-follower. Then get over your punk-like ways and find some time to thank a bus driver for doing a job that often gets the bird instead of the respect it deserves.

8/15/2007

Purses, Practicality and the Pursuit of Happiness

By: Kristin Varela

I have a pet peeve. OK, I have several pet peeves, the biggest of which is people with poor grocery-store etiquette. (You know who I'm talking about — the ones who stand right in front of the shelf and search endlessly for the anchovy paste, blocking everyone else from accessing that area. Just take a step back, people, and let others in!) My second-biggest pet peeve is not having a place in the car to store my purse, leaving it to sit impatiently on the passenger seat, mischievously waiting to launch itself into the air and spew its contents all over the car mere moments before the pediatrician — whom I've been trying to reach for two days — calls my cell phone to explain to me why my daughter has seemingly incurable alligator skin on her toes (it's eczema, in case you were wondering).

Crystal Windham, the interior design manager for the 2008 Chevy Malibu, seems to understand my pain. In addition to creating a center console large enough to store my purse, she's also added a center dash compartment to keep my cell phone easily accessibly so that the next time the pediatrician calls, I won't miss it.

The deliciously tactile ebony-and-brick or cocoa-and-cashmere two-toned seats available in the new Malibu (Chevy calls the material UltraLux Sheer Suede and Tipped Leather) were also inspired by a purse: They were created to echo cues of a certain upscale ladies handbag which shall remain nameless.

Other thoughtful interior features also prevail in the Malibu: easily accessible lower Latch anchors, a simple hinged mechanism to cover the top-tether anchors when not in use, an available rear window shade to keep the sun from shining directly into the baby's eyes, and acoustical glass. This helps keep the car quiet enough to hear little Suzie's meek-sounding plea for a potty stop — you don't want her peeing on that UltraLux Suede, do you? With a slew of standard features, including antilock brakes, traction control, a tire pressure monitoring system, remote vehicle start (on upper trim levels), OnStar, XM Satellite Radio and more, the Malibu is really rather luxurious — and it's a Chevy. Seriously. Who'd've thunk?

After watching a beautiful, brand-spanking-new Malibu get crash tested in front of my eyes, driving 35 mph head-on into a stationary barrier, I can also attest to the fact that the six standard airbags all work. Also, the "safety cage" passenger compartment was not intruded upon whatsoever in this particular crash.

I got to drive the Malibu on wet ceramic tiles (to simulate snow and ice) as well as an asphalt slalom course, and I'm excited to tell you how it went, but I super-secret pinkie swore I wouldn't talk about my driving impressions of the Malibu just yet. You'll have to wait until November for that, so keep checking back until we get the Malibu for our two-week, kids-in-tow, grime-the-car-up-then-return-it test drive. Don't worry, Chevy, we'll vacuum that beauty out before we give it back. Honest we will.

8/14/2007

Distinct Aroma Offers Temporary High

By: Sara Lacey

I have realized during my stint here at Mother Proof that a definite altered state occurs when one encounters New Car Smell. For me, any initial positive, lovey feelings I get from a car must be held at arm's length, knowing the unbelievable sway New Car Smell has on me. I can't produce a negative comment when high on NCS. I can drive a real lemon, but as long as it smells new, it doesn't seem so bad. Any car can make me pretty happy as long as it has that smell; it's like vehicular pheromones.

Many studies have been done analyzing New Car Smell. Turns out it's a nasty combination of Volatile Organic Compounds from all the glue, dye, plastic, leather and other things that go into a new car (thus explaining why the perfume at the carwash doesn't quite do the job). Great; yet another thing I like that's bad for me.

Some foreign manufacturers like Toyota, Nissan, Honda, Mitsubishi, Mazda and Volvo are adhering to new standards that reduce the number of VOCs. Still some others aren't, and there are no standards in the United States to which manufacturers have to adhere. Environmental groups are working to change that, but apparently 90 percent of these VOCs are emitted during the first three weeks of ownership of a new car. So maybe we just need to keep the windows open more often after we initially purchase a car.

Or you can breathe deeply and blissfully ignore those weird noises coming from the backseat. Oh, wait. Those are the kids. It's up to you.

8/10/2007

Imported Knowledge Sheds Light on Roundabouts

By: Sara Lacey

It would seem that Posh and Becks aren't England's only recent imports to the U.S.: My town has recently taken to installing traffic circles. Now, I have to confess my only real impression of traffic circles, or roundabouts, is the one you probably have too: "Look kids! Big Ben! Parliament!" (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, go to YouTube and look up "European Vacation, roundabouts.")

Anyway, I'm slightly embarrassed to tell you I didn't know how exactly these things were supposed to work, so I called my friend, Ellen From England. Ellen From England (you have to use her whole name) is a champ at rescuing me from confusion regarding the metric system, cockney accents and football (soccer). Turns out, she also possesses a wealth of roundabout knowledge as well.

According to Ellen From England, the two biggest issues with roundabouts in America are as follows: No one's been taught how to use them properly, and most of the ones built here are quite small. First issue first (I wish I could do it in her accent, you'll have to do it in your head): A proper roundabout is structured to keep traffic moving by favoring the larger flow of traffic. Smaller veins entering the roundabout yield to the larger mass of traffic. When traveling through a roundabout, stay in the right lane to continue on your current path. If you're changing direction, move into the left lane and travel 'round the circle. When approaching your "exit," put on your signal, move to the right lane and exit. This requires you to pay attention at all times in the roundabout, right? Brilliant! It's frustrating because so many places in my town have roundabouts, but no real education has been given about how they're used. I feel even worse when it's so simple I should just KNOW how it all works.

Of course, many installations here are meant to be used simply as traffic-calming devices, so all you have to do is slow down — but therein lies the humor. One country uses them to keep things moving and flowing, another uses them for slowing and calming. Apparently, the smaller the roundabout, the more likely it's intended to calm. Whichever it is in your city, I hope Ellen From England's advice will help you process your own roundabout woes and use the traffic devices more effectively. Cheerio, chaps!

8/8/2007

Icon Means We've Got One Less Thing to Remember

By: Sara Lacey

I have an issue: I can't remember what side of the car my gas tank door is on. I blame this on the fact that I drive lots of cars, so I can't possibly be expected to recall my own vehicle's important features. Maybe you're like me, or maybe your confusion happens because you travel a lot and frequently rent cars. Or maybe you have a car but don't drive a lot, so when you do, you forget this little detail. Or maybe your brain is just too full of your kids' schedules, things you need at the grocery store, bills to be paid, menu planning, dry-cleaning pickup, important phone numbers, important dates, school meetings ...

The last thing you need is some ridiculous mnemonic device that will get stuck in your head in order to remember your car's nuances (like singing "The door is on the driver's side, the driver's side, the driver's side" to the tune of "Here We Go 'Round the Mulberry Bush"). Or a tattoo. Whatever the case, I take comfort in the fact that I'm not the only one with this problem. How do I know? Because car manufacturers actually place little indicators on the instrument panel of new cars to help guide you at the gas station.

On my car, this indicator is a little arrow that points to the left. I always thought the arrow was illustrating the fact that the gas gauge was to the left. Not so! After a conversation with some coworkers (and reading the manual to verify, mind you) I learned that this arrow is in fact a friendly reminder that the fuel-filler door is on the driver's side of the car. Now I don't have to come up with some acronym or song, nor do I have to lean out the car door and bonk it on the gas pump when looking to see if the door is on my side. Sweet relief! Now if only I could get "The Door is on the Driver's Side" out of my head.

8/1/2007

From Essentials to Junk, Car Cargo Runs the Gamut

By: Emily Hansen

Being a mom with tons of spare time (not), I have a penchant for late-night internet surfing. I find it to be a little like watching infomercials or the shopping network until the wee hours — completely mindless, potentially expensive and somewhat unsatisfying. My surfing seems to be theme-oriented; for instance, it could be home-improvement related, where I hit sites ranging from hardware to furniture to one-of-a-kind household gadgets. Another night, I will find myself fascinated by the vast lexicon at urbandictionary.com. Help — I'm being sucked into the internet!

A few nights ago, I was stuck in a surfing session about the stuff women carry in their purses. I'm not sure how I arrived at this particular topic, but it somehow ate up a good two hours of my time. Ladies, some of you carry some weird crap in your purses. A sucked-on hard-candy to collect dust? Really? That's just nasty.

The variety of stuff we carry in our purses made me think about the ultimate stuff-collectors: our cars. I know I have a "car kit" — a little bag I put all of my basics into. My bag lives in my center console, and if I ever have to drive my husband's car (ughhh...) or a test car, I just take that little ditty with me. You can see a picture of its contents below. I took an informal poll of some of my friends and found some trends. Each of their consoles were full of a variety of stuff, but they seemed to follow some basic personality types (names have been changed to protect the innocent):

Neat Nikki — Baby wipes, stain stick, quarters for the car wash, a box of small trash bags and a hand vacuum.

Germophobe Gina — Baby wipes and bleach wipes, antibacterial liquid (I have never seen a bottle as big as hers), tissues and a box of latex gloves — I kid you not.

Beauty-Queen Beth — Baby wipes, full makeup kit, full-size bottle of hair spray, cotton balls and Q-tips, brush, comb and a hair dryer with a plug that fits in a car lighter.

Emergency Ellen — Baby wipes, cooler full of snacks and drinks (refilled daily), change of clothes for the family, sunscreen, first-aid kit, fire extinguisher, roadside emergency kit (including flares), winter boots, a collapsible shovel and a Scrabble Junior game, just in case.

Kid-Orient Kim — Baby wipes, diapers (two sizes), stuffed animals, bag-o-LEGOs, die-cast cars and the full collection of Raffi CDs.

Closet Smoker Cami — Baby wipes, pack of cigs, lighter, matches, three packs of gum, air freshener and a mini bottle of perfume.

Minimalist Maggie — Baby wipes, iPod with connector, lip gloss, garage door opener, breath mints and a pen and notepad.

Do you fit one of these types? What's in your car? I dare you to tell us.