The hardest 90 minutes of my life as a parent (to date)?

The hardest 90 minutes of my life as a parent (other than labor, which was the hardest 18 hours of my life)? Waiting to find out if my daughter passed her road test, to obtain her driver's license.

I think I was a bigger wreck than the teenager, who was pretty anxious and nervous. Which is why we had the spouse go with her. (His nickname, back in the day, was "the human Quaalude," for his immediate calming influence.)

The appointment, at her driving school, in a car she had taken lessons in, was for 7:45 a.m. So she and the spouse left the house at 7:20 a.m., to make sure she got there on time, which they did. However, she didn't actually start the test until 8:30. (WTF is that all about?)

Can you say nervous mother?

After pacing around the house, changing light bulbs, doing laundry, cleaning the cat boxes, wiping down ceiling fans, texting the spouse, for what seemed like an eternity, the spouse texted me at 8:50:

"Pass."

"Perfect score."

"THANK YOU JESUS," I texted back (even though we're Jewish -- though so was Jesus).

Now the teenager has to wait 48 hours. Then go to the DMV (again with the spouse) to get her actual license, which will entail waiting on another line, for at least an hour.

Then I will officially hand over the keys to my Mini Cooper and the real worrying will begin.

So, any words of advice from you fellow parents of teenage drivers? This is a whole new world for me, having grown up in Manhattan, where no one drove, at least not teenagers. And I am terrified.

UPDATED 9/26: It's official. The teenager is now licensed to drive. Got her license -- with a really nice photo! -- from the DMV this morning.

When cars were cars...

and were fun to look at and drive.

This weekend was the annual Greenwich Concours d'Elegance, with the Concours Americana (featuring American classic & collectible cars from 1900 to the 1990s) on Saturday and the Concours International, my personal fave (featuring imported classic, sports, and touring cars from 1900 to the present day), on Sunday.

As a lifelong classic car fancier, who could ogle beautiful cars for hours, and longs to own one (or three), though is way too practical and cheap to do so, I was in heaven strolling around the Greenwich Concours d'Elegance, snapping photos and chatting with fellow classic car fanciers and owners.

Here are some of my favorite classic cars (or at least the ones I got decent pictures of) from this year's Greenwich Concours d'Elegance.

First up, this lovely green 1939 Lincoln Zephyr Convertible.

Next up, this handsome, black 1937 Lincoln Model K Convertible.

And while I am not a fan of Corvettes, I fell in love with this stunning baby blue 1954 Corvette Convertible. (One of the exhibitors, alas, not the owner of the 1954 baby blue Corvette Convertible, was kind enough to let me behind the yellow rope so I could take a look inside the car. She's a beauty.)

And what would a classic car show be without a silver 1964 Aston Martin DB5?

Sadly, it did not come equipped with Sean Connery. Sigh.

But I consoled myself (temporarily) with this lovely forest (or hunter) green 1956 Jaguar XK140 convertible.

And fell immediately in lust with this crimson 1954 Jaguar XK140 roadster. (The spouse and I agreed that this was probably our favorite car.)

We also found this cream-colored Mercedes-Benz 1939 170V roadster to be quite handsome.

And the spouse enjoyed chatting with the owner of this stunning 1966 baby blue Austin Healey 3000 MK III roadster, who bought the car from the original owner (whose wife forced him to sell the car when she had their first child) in 1969 and has lovingly cared for it since.

Last, but not least, as I am currently in the market for a new car, I figured I'd check out the new Maserati GranTurismo Sport.

Looks good on me, no?

[I asked the spouse what he thought the gas mileage was on the Maserati, as it wasn't posted on the sign, and he said, "If you have to ask, this probably isn't the car for you."]

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Finally, an answer to the age-old question, Why did the chicken cross the road? (Well, sort of.)

Because it was test driving a Mercedes-Benz Intelligent Drive Magic Body Control System!



Note: No chickens were harmed in the making of this ad. Just deeply embarrassed.

More about the Mercedes-Benz chicken commercial and the Mercedes-Benz Magic Body Control  suspension system here and here.

When cars fly or how The Jetsons is responsible for almost every cool gadget we have

Forget Star Trek. You want to know which 1960s television show has had the greatest impact on technology, inspiring or foreshadowing the creation of many cool gadgets? The Jetsons.

Think about it: flat-screen TVs, online newsreaders, robot vacuum cleaners, video chat, mobile communications devices... and now flying cars. (Though this one doesn't fold up into a briefcase.)



While Terrafugia's new TF-X personal flying vehicle looks pretty cool, and I admit there have been many times I wished my car could fly (mainly while being stuck in traffic on 95 or 495), do I really think that a flying car (no doubt driven by the same people I frequently curse out or you see on those car dealer or car insurance ads) is a good idea? No.

Still, Terrafugia makes the TF-X sound awfully tempting. (You can fly or drive around 500 miles on a single charge or tank or whatever. It fits into a single-car garage. No more being stuck on the Long Island Expressway for hours! And it has a full-vehicle backup parachute system! Though I shudder at the thought of needing to use it.)

So, would you buy a flying car (assuming you could afford it)?

I am so leading the wrong life

As some of you may know, I have a thing for cars -- elegant, classic, sporty, expensive cars that can easily go from 0 to 60 in seconds. The kind of car you would expect Cary Grant to be driving around the French Riviera or James Bond to drive anywhere. (My Aston Martin obsession is well documented.)

Indeed, you would be hard-pressed to look through one of my many photo books and not see a photo of some gorgeous classic car (or several cars) I spied and had to take a picture of.

So you can imagine my delight at finally being able to attend the Greenwich Concours d'Elegance, one of the world's great classic, sports, and touring car shows, this weekend.

I felt like a kid in a candy story. Or, in this case, a Mercedes G3.

(I nearly had to haul some old geezer who got stuck in the driver's seat out of the car so I could have my picture taken in it. I'm not proud. But this is as close to driving a Mercedes G3 that I will probably ever get.)

Here are some of my favorite cars* from the 2013 Greenwich Concours d'Elegance.

First up, a lovely silver Aston Martin DB5 Vantage (sadly, minus Sean Connery). 

I was also rather fond of the classic Porsches, particularly this red Porsche 356A convertible...

And this gorgeous cream-colored Porsche Carrera Speedster.















Porsche, there is no substitute.

Except maybe this stunning forest green Jaguar XK 150S. Me-owrrr!

(One of my fondest memories growing up is of my father having to lend me his brand-new chestnut brown Jaguar the summer after I graduated high school, when I was 17 and had just gotten my driver's license, and toodling around Southampton in it while he had to drive the Oldsmobile he rented, not realizing you had to be 25 to drive a rental car.)

I also would have happily driven off with this gorgeous Mercedes-Benz 190SL convertible.

Until next year...

*Or, more accurately, cars that I was able to get a good or decent photograph of. Many of the cars were so close together, with people hovering around them or with that annoying yellow rope right in front, that it was impossible to get a good picture. I also didn't want this post to go on and on, though I could have easily posted a few more pics from the Greenwich Concours d'Elegance, like this photo of the black 1955 Mercedes 300SL Gullwing...

I find this Audi S7 ad highly illogical

So for those of you who do not own a television, do not browse the Internet, or read entertainment magazines or a newspaper, the new Star Trek movie, Into Darkness, comes out May 17. And car maker Audi has put its tie-in advertising for the new Audi S7 into warp drive.

Just like the original Star Trek series and the Star Trek movies, Audi's latest ad, "Zachary Quinto [the new Mr. Spock] vs. [original Mr. Spock] Leonard Nimoy: The Challenge" combines futuristic technology and humor to create something... fascinating. Or just downright bizarre.



[H/T to Another David S. for sending me this video. Live long and prosper, cuz.]

I love the bit at the end where Nimoy gives Quinto the Vulcan nerve pinch.

As amusing (or interesting) as the ad may be, though, Audi seems to have forgotten the famous Spock quote, "After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true."

Bonus points to anyone (other than Dave S.) who knows what song Leonard Nimoy is singing as he drives to the club.

Anyone?

Time's up. It's "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins," which you can see right here:



You're welcome.

Which model would you rather test drive?

One (or both) of these two hard bodies (courtesy of Hollister), like this woman here*...

Or this sexy little number (courtesy of Lamborghini)?

Or, better yet, being chauffeured by one of those fine young men in this fine Lamborghini Gallardo.

Ah, the joys of sightseeing in New York City.

*I tried to get my friend, A., to pose with the lifeguards, but she refused. In retrospect, I should have done it. Next time.

Which Super Bowl XLVI car ad will win?

Forget Giants vs. Patriots, this Super Bowl (XLVI), it's all about Volkswagen vs. Acura (and Audi).

Capitalizing on last year's uber successful Darth Vader Super Bowl ad, titled "The Force," Volkswagen now gives us "The Dog Strikes Back," advertising the new and improved (?) Volkswagen Beetle. (Be sure to watch it all the way through to see the Star Wars connection.)



Personally, I think the ad is nowhere near as entertaining as "The Force" (which featured the same or a similar dog, being accosted by Little Lord Vader)...



or even its "Bark Side" teaser:



But I don't think the ad for the new Acura NSX, titled "Transactions" and featuring Jerry Seinfeld (never got him, never will)...



or Audi's "Vampire Party" ad...



is any funnier. (Seriously, vampires are so last year.)

So which ad(s) do you like? And would you buy one of these cars based on the ad? (I hate the Jerry Seinfeld Acura NSX ad, but I totally want that car. ) Leave me a comment.

UPDATED: How could I have left out Honda's ad for its new and improved (?) CR-V featuring Matthew Broderick?! Friends, I believe we have a clear winner after all. (And I may need to be tested for early onset dementia.)

69 TOPLES(S)

Saw this license plate earlier today. Am hoping it, "69TOPLES" (aka 69 TOPLESS), referred to this guy's car, a 1969 Plymouth Barracuda Convertible (which is apparently quite rare). But you never know.

Alas, poor Yugo! (Last Yugo rolls of the assembly line today.)

Sure, the Yugo, the pride of the former Soviet Yugoslavia, had its problems -- engine problems, transmission problems, clutch problems, electrical problems, door problems... (Did I leave anything out?) But according to this Associated Press story, it was the Volkswagen Beetle (the original, popular one) of the former Yugoslav republics. A practical cult figure in car culture. And "over 100,000 Yugo GVs — standing for Great Value — were sold in the U.S. before Yugo America — the company that imported it — went bankrupt."

(Although Time magazine voted the Yugo one of The Fifty Worst Cars of All Time, you would hardly have guessed it from this commercial.)



But, sadly, as of today, even Eastern Europeans will no longer have the Yugo to kick (or push*) around anymore, at least not any new ones, because today, comrades, the last Yugo is rolling off the assembly line in Kragujevac, Serbia.

And as we bid a fond farewell (or good riddance) to the Yugo, which joins other once iconic vehicles (aka deathtraps) such as the Ford Pinto and the AMC Gremlin in that junkyard in the sky, I leave you with this quote from a proud Serbian Yugo owner: "This is driving in its most natural form. You feel every bump, squeak and jolt, and one can enjoy the sweet smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes.... No car can replace it."

(Or, as Hamlet might have said: "Alas, poor Yugo! I knew it, Horatio. A car of infinite jest, of most ill-conceived fancy. It hath bore me on its seats a thousand times, and now how abhorr'd in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it.")

So goodbye Yugo. And goodbye Yugo jokes*. You will be missed. (Not.)

* Q: Why does a Yugo have a defroster on the rear window?

A: To keep your hands warm while you push it.

Jets, Giants win again... Change you can click on... And what is it with old people and Buicks?

Obama won. Jets won. Giants won. Really, does it get any better than this?

Barack Obama is now going to be our #1 (or our Numero Uno, for all my Spanish-speaking readers) when it comes to government and/or governance. And thanks to their wins this weekend, both the Jets (who slaughtered the St. Louis Rams, 47 - 3) and the Giants (who clipped the Philadelphia Eagles, 36 - 31) are now number one in their respective conference divisions. (Okay, okay. For you purists, aka New England Patriots fans, the Jets are technically tied for first in the AFC East right now. But considering where they were last year, this is HUGE. And the Giants, with an 8 - 1 record, lead the National Football Conference outright. Take that Cowboys and Redskins fans.)

I am still waiting for my official post-election Obama-Biden t-shirt, but in the meantime I am showing my support for my other favorite teams.

Btw, speaking of the president elect and his new administration, I invite and recommend you all to visit Barack Obama's new website, Change.gov, where you can read the latest news about the country's next executive team, share your election/campaign stories, and even apply for a job with the Obama administration (which I did over the weekend -- keep your fingers crossed for me!).

Lastly (and having nothing to do with Obama, the Jets, or the Giants), What the heck is it about seventy- and eightysomethings and Buicks?! I nearly got run over by some white-haired granny in a big blue (circa 1990?) Buick this morning in the parking lot at Whole Foods, and this wasn't the first time. Over the weekend, I got stuck behind another elderly woman, driving an older "Champagne" or "Cashmere"-colored Buick, who illegally turned right in front of me, then practically stopped dead, then again not using a turn signal turned left after waiting what seemed like forever at a stop sign.

I know Tiger Woods, 31, has been the or a spokesperson for Buick since 1999, but I dare you to find me one Buick driver under the age of 50.

That's all for now. Just remember to drive safely -- and check out Change.gov.

The Tale of the One-Armed Tow Truck Driver

What you are about to read is true. It happened to me this weekend.

So on Saturday, while leaving the gym, my steering wheel started to shake. I immediately suspected something was wrong with my tire, but continued to drive on it, waiting for the tire pressure light to come on -- which it did, just as I got home. Sure enough, my left front tire was flat. Fortunately, there's a tire place down the road, so I slowly drove my Mini (which is Royal Taupe and known as Roger) there as the tire was not completely flat. A guy at the place said they didn't have any tires that would fit my car but he'd patch mine up that afternoon.

Three hours later...

I pick up my Mini, which is only two years old and has less than 17K miles on it, and check out the tire, which looks OK. But I just have to ask the guy, because I am a woman, and I don't entirely trust the guy, and I am going into NYC on Sunday, can I drive on this tire to NYC tomorrow? The guy says "no problem." So, of course, because, a) I'm a woman and b) this seems way too good to be true, having cost me only $4.19, I say, Are you sure? And, How long will the patch hold for? His response: "for miles." So I ask, How many miles? And he says, "thousands of miles."

So Sunday morning, I head off to NYC, which is approximately 50 miles away. It is my first weekend day outing on my own in, oh, maybe a year (pathetic but true), for a fun brunch in TriBeCa that took me months to coordinate (can you hear the tiny violins playing? I can) and within minutes, I feel my steering wheel pulling to the left. But do I stop and check my tire? No. Because I am convinced that I am just paranoid.

Thirty minutes later, things gets worse. But do I stop at the Greenwich service area? No. I am on a mission.

Ten minutes later, the tire blows. Fortunately, I am able to safely steer off onto the shoulder. Unfortunately, I am on the Hutchinson River Parkway, where the shoulder is about as wide as I am (OK, about as wide as my Mini), just in front of the sign for Exit 19/Wilmot Road.

So I calmly call Mini Roadside Assistance, and 10 minutes later I get an operator, probably based in North Dakota or India because the words "Hutchinson River Parkway" do not register. After putting me on hold for several minutes, she kindly informs me she cannot help me because I am on the Hutch (which I know), and no trucks are allowed on the Hutch, and that I need to call a special number. so I ask her, Who is it I am calling? She does not know. "Someone who can help you," she says. Great.

So I call the number. Turns out, it's the Westchester County Police. The officer or dispatcher is polite, takes down my information, and says he'll send help. (I then call Kenny, my spouse, and ask him to call both my lunchmates and cancel, so I can keep my cell phone clear. Kenny and Abby, btw, are having a grand time, playing games at a local arcade and then going out to lunch.)

About 10 minutes letter, a police car (a Ford Crown Victoria) speeds into view. Officer Grasso (whose name I only found out much later) gets out and together we take a look at my car and try to figure out where my spare is. And no, it wasn't obvious. It is under the car. We -- okay, HE gets it out, and we stare at it. Apparently, Westchester County Police officers are not allowed to change tires. Great. But, he says, there's a tow truck coming. Should be here any minute. I am very excited. Maybe I can make it to NYC after all! (HA!)

About that time, another cop car pulls up, this one an SUV. The officers confer. Traffic along the Hutch crawls to a standstill. A few minutes later the SUV pulls away. That leaves me and Officer Grasso to discuss life, the universe, and everything.

It turns out that Officer Grasso is a former football fan who now prefers NASCAR. We agree that Jimmie Johnson is a good driver but that there are too many pretty boys in NASCAR and in sports in general, many of whom are not talented but get by on their looks. We agree that talent trumps looks. He has two kids, 10 and 11, the former was a preemie, and his wife is a pharmacist. He is from Queens and is captain of his softball team.

He asks me what I do. I tell him that I write about entrepreneurs and their ideas and inventions and he mentions that he, too, has invented something, which I cannot disclose here, but I tell him he should pursue it.

Finally, after waiting by the side of the road for nearly 90 minutes, my feet (and other parts) freezing, and listening to Officer Grasso give me the gory details of various accidents he has seen on the Hutch and the Bronx River Parkway (thank you so much, Officer), the tow truck pulls up. And out walks a big black guy (looks like a football player) with a big smile and... one arm. You have got to be kidding me, I think. Am I on "Candid Camera"? But no, he is for real, and he could not be sweeter or more apologetic about keeping me waiting (said he had just gotten the call).

In FIVE MINUTES the guy had the spare on and had cleaned up the debris. AMAZING. I felt like an idiot. (For the record, I could change the tire on my Camry and on my Saab, just didn't know how to do it on a Mini and was too scared and cold to try on the Hutch on the narrowest of shoulders.) The tow-truck driver then informed me that the spare needed air, and I really shouldn't drive much on it. Great.

Officer Grasso then asks the guy if I can make it a few miles, to a service station further up the Hutch. The one-armed man says I should be OK.

So, with a police escort, I slowly, very slowly, get off at the next exit and get back on the Hutch headed north. Less than 10 minutes later, we are at the Mobil station, the one with the enormously obvious fake cell phone tower tree. Officer Grasso then proceeds to fill the spare and my right front tire with air -- and invites me out to lunch with him and his partner. I thank him but politely decline.

I returned home three hours after I left, hungry and depressed. But it could have been a lot worse. Not every day do I stop traffic on the Hutch or get asked out to lunch by a cop. And hey, both the Giants and the Jets won their games that day (though I'm not sure about Jimmie Johnson -- forgot to check).