DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

I’m always looking for things that might be fodder for my next column. Generally it’s some jackass weaving in and out of traffic like sewing machine operators at a sweat shop in downtown Bangladesh. Other times its apparent amputees who don’t have a free hand to operate their turn signals.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour

Since I generally drive a different car every week, I get the opportunity to peruse a lot of Monroney labels. (For those from rural Vermont, Monroney labels are the price sheets you have to scrape off the rear side window when you purchase a new vehicle.) Lately, I’ve witnessed a phenomenon that I do not care for whatsoever. A lot of manufacturers are listing charges for such items as “paint.” You heard me right…charging for paint!

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

When I was younger and I used to have to clean brontosaurus crap off my shoes before I came into the house, how cool you were depended on what kind of “ride” you had. If your parents drove you everywhere you went, including dates (if you were ever able to buy any) you were nothing.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

I’ve written before about how no matter what lane of traffic I’m driving in it seems that those somewhere in front of me want to make a turn, causing me and the conga line trailing the turning vehicle to have to stop or slow down to a turtle’s pace. Meanwhile, the other lane looks like Turn 4 at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

As usually happens during the summer months there have been bunch of car shows ranging from high-performance models to classics. Generally the only time I pay attention to things like that is to find out where the shows are being held so I can make sure I don’t go that way. I hate crowds. But when there are literally thousands of classic and antique cars that show up in a city for an event as world-famous as Detroit’s Woodward Dream Cruise then it’s hard to avoid seeing these vehicles up close and personal.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour      

Some time ago I wrote a rant about people who die at stoplights. Not literally, but by that I mean when the light turns green their reactions turn catatonic. At the time I wished sick, depraved and quite frankly, disturbing forms of punishment for those sitting there unmoving, thus taking away a few precious and possibly productive seconds of my life.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

It’s been decades since I noticed the logo of a Dr. Pepper bottle. I say “bottle” because the last time I did notice one they were actually bottled in glass. On the logo were the numbers 10-2-4, laid out in a triangular pattern (an “equilateral” triangle as this sea hag I had for high school geometry — the only subject I ever failed — would describe).

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

I have this dear friend whom I’ll call Jim (because to be honest, that’s his name) who I’m concerned may have a spastic foot. I say this because I drive with him often at the multitude of auto and truck reviewing programs we go to throughout the country, the world and even once, my beloved home state of Indiana, and seldom has he ever driven in a smooth fashion without having to resort to cruise control to make it happen.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

It doesn’t take a South African Code Cracker to determine from my previous columns that I spend a lot of time behind the wheel, and a lot more time behind that wheel listening to the radio (forget calling them things like “car stereos” or “audio systems;” they’re radios, okay?!), and most of that time the radio is tuned in to a news station.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

One of the nice things about reviewing vehicles is that most of them are loaded up with almost everything the manufacturer offers. This includes power everything, leather everything and appearance package everythings. But one of the real pluses is that they generally install their premium audio systems.