Boy was I wrong. BMW enthusiasts know a good thing when they see it. The first time I drove one last month, I was in heaven. It was a used Arctic Blue 3-series convertible. The ride was smooth, the car a timeless beauty, and the attention to detail and owner comfort beyond exceptional. I had to have one.
I admit, I had similar feelings for the Mercedes CLK convertibles. Driving those cars was like walking on air. I now knew what I'd been missing all these years. I've owned Hondas, Toyotas, Datsuns/Nissans, Volkswagens, Ford trucks, a Ford SUV, a Ford hybrid, a Chevy, a Mazda, and even (briefly) a crappy GM sedan. But never a luxury car. Never a convertible.
Car shopping was a pain. It's a full-time job that is full of disappointments (at least three cars were sold out from under me during the process, including the Arctic blue one that I wanted). But it's also a chance to meet interesting people. There was Jimmy, the 67-year-old widower out in the country who asked me to a dance after test-driving his '99 Mercedes-Benz SLK. Although Jimmy was sweet on me, I decided against roadsters after driving that car—a two-seater just does not provide enough space around me. I wanted a four-seater convertible.
There was the 6'1" tall massive mountain of a woman from New Orleans with four cats who told me about the time she parked her brand new Mini Cooper in a friend's driveway in Florida. She'd left the top down when the automatic lawn sprinklers came on and drenched the inside of the car, ruining the radio. Bummer. I didn't buy that car, either. It was cute, but not me.
Yup, met lots of interesting folk.
Then there was the whore's car. I was stepping into a used blue 2006 BMW 325Ci convertible at an importer's lot when a middle-aged black woman with long hair stopped on the sidewalk directly in front of the parked BMW. She was staring intensely at the car—admiring it, I presumed. I said, "It's pretty, isn't it?" She said, "No." Interested in her opinion, I asked her, "What makes you say that?" She looked at me and announced, "Because that's a whore's car."
I couldn't stop laughing. Either she'd already been drinking that day, or she was a zealous Southern Baptist who thought I needed saving. Possibly both. When I told the dealer about it later, he apologized. I laughed, "I'm from New York - I've seen it all."
Two days later I went back and bought the whore's car. And I love her. One of the cool things about BMW is their 4-year 50,000-mile free maintenance program and warranty. Nice. I took it in and had a free inspection and oil change this past week. Talk about getting the red carpet treatment. This dealer's service department didn't hesitate to put me in a brand new white 2010 BMW 328i sedan to use as a loaner while they worked on my BMW.
Man, the sedans are even smoother rides than the convertibles! I almost felt fickle for enjoying it so much. Oh, and BMW doesn't return your serviced car to you without washing it first. Granted, the valet key copy I had made cost me 50 bucks, but for some reason I didn't mind paying it. (A master key copy would have been $175. Yikes.)
Lucky for me, the week I bought the car, my brother Dave introduced me to two neat women who own a startup technology company here in Georgia, and I found myself employed just five days later.
To top that off, it was 80 degrees and sunny today—literally a perfect day. I, of course, found an excuse to leave my home office and go to my brother's home office to pick up some network equipment for the job. I sure took my time on that drive! The sun felt great.
Yeh, yeh. I am fully aware that in about six weeks I'll be complaining miserably about how much I am sweating in the sweltering humidity here. . . .
Man, I can't believe how much I'm enjoying it here. Atlanta - of all places. Hmm.
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