It is, you know, a car.

It is, you know, a car.

Those who have only known me for a short time rolled their eyes heavenward, while old-time friends only nodded.  Makes perfect sense for a grown man to buy an Alfa Romeo as a daily-use car in Maine.  One shouldn’t let the thought that pick-ups and SUV’s are the choice of wintertime transportation, nor let the historical snow levels, even in a coastal town like Portland, deter one from making such a logical choice.  Not for a moment.

But even the old-timers got a little round in the eyes when I mentioned that I was about to drive my newly acquired 1988 Alfa from Portland down to Saint Petersburg, Florida.  It was interesting to listen to the various reasons why doing so was not a good idea, although after all was said and done, the most frequently mentioned reasons boiled down to:

1)    It was an old car;

2)    It was a little thing;

3)    It couldn’t keep the pace required on today’s Interstate Highways;

4)    It was so small;

5)    It was an old car, and

6)    Did they really intend for such a small car to travel so far?

Of course, the arguments are valid.  It is an old car, and, it is small, but, as I said to my friends again and again, it is after all, a car.  And cars were made to get into and drive, wherever.  Wherever you wished.  And I wished to go down and visit my Mom for her birthday.  What better way to go, than in a fun automobile?

Now, a 1988 automobile is an old car, so I spent some time going over every inch of my new car.  I had one rule, if it looked worn, or if it had many miles on it, change it.  As it turned out, the car was in rather good shape and a few hundred bucks saw her with new points, plugs, oil and filter, trans and rear end topped, carbs cleaned and adjusted, brakes checked, adjusted and fluid topped, and all the gages and switches checked and lubed.

Although I planned on Interstate driving, I also planned on some secondary road exploring.  To that end, I decided to cut across Mass, via the turnpike, then head south on the Taconic State Parkway in New York, zip across PA, then arc southward through MD, WVA, VA and settle in somewhere around Charlotte, NC.  My plans were good.  It’s just that Old Man Winter finally decided to visit New England, on the day that I left.

By the time I got to Worcester, MA, there was three-inches of snow on the Mass turnpike.  Have you noticed how close to the ground Alfa’s are?  My manual says I have five-inches of clearance.  Maybe so, but there sure were funny sounds occurring directly under seat.  And, of course, MY seat was sitting on my seat, and there’s not much seat on these seats.

I must say that the windshield wipers did a great job keeping the windshield clear.  And the heater, kept me toasty and kept the windshield fog free.  In fact, let me say that during the entire trip, during which the temperature was quite often in the single or low double digits, I never had to wear anything more than a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a cotton sweater.  I was warm, warm, warm.

At the New York border, the snow was over the six-inch mark.  Fortunately, the road was plowed.  Unfortunately, that meant I was stuck in one lane.  If I tried to change lanes, I’d hit the residual snow line, and bounce off, then start fishtailing.  No fun.  So I hung out in the right lane, which definitely irked all the truckers.  To get even, they’d come up to within three inches of my tail then swing out and pass me.  Well, maybe they weren’t quite that close, but let me tell you, when all you can see in your mirror is the vertical lines of a Mack Truck’s grill, it sure feels like only three inches separates you.

Of course, in case no one has ever mentioned it, the Alfa is a SMALL car.  About three-quarters of a truck-tire small.  So when a trucked passed me, it was like taking a shower.  All I could see was the windshield.  And the slush flying through the air.  Isn’t driving an Alfa fun?