Thanks For Writing
Author: Maggie Washo
I’ve had so many letters from our readers lately, I’ve decided to share my column with them this month. It means a lot to me that some of you take time out of your busy day to craft a letter—whether it is positive or negative doesn’t really matter. You cared enough to share. So now I’m sharing with you…
ON BUYING A NEW CAR
I enjoyed reading your letter to the editor in the January issue. Even though your situation is not funny, it does make for a good story and one I can relate to. Cars are a total mystery to me, and purchasing them is even more so. I am lucky in that my husband understands what cars need, and, even better, he used to sell them.
We have had excellent luck with a Honda Accord and Toyota Camry. We purchased both cars new, one in 1998 and one in 2007. We have never had any major repairs on either car. My son is still driving our Honda, and my husband still drives our Toyota.
I prefer the Honda as it is quieter when you are on the freeway and the headrest angle is not so extreme. I am short, and the fat part of the back of my head hits the most forward part of the head rest in the Toyota and pushes my head down when I lean against the seat. I don’t experience that in the Honda. That being said, I have not driven the new Accord or Camry and they may be different.
Good luck with your car. I hope it survives.
I saw your letter in the new issue of CH2. I absolutely love my Toyota Highlander Hybrid. I have owned a Jeep Grand Cherokee, BMW and Land Rover, and this is the first car I have owned that I love
Maggie Washo. Ben Bernanke. Donald Trump. What do all of these old, rich white men have in common? Their fleet of vehicles, apparently. Consider the case of M. Washo. In January’s “From the Editor” section, she brags about owning a BMW, then a Mercedes, and then finally a Lexus. Most of us in the 99% could only ever dream about owning one of those vehicles at some point in our lives, but not Ms. Washo. She not only owned all of them, but carelessly drove them into the ground. Now she looks for pity from the rest of us for having to drive an old VW? No ma’am.
I worked two jobs in high school to pay for my cherry red, 1989 Ford Probe with no AC or driver’s side window. And, when that fine piece of American “machinery” ran out of gas twice per week, I walked to work to earn the next tank of gas necessary to go home to sleep to rest up for another day of work. In fact, I bet M. Washo probably blew by me on my long slog to work, as she sipped some Dom Perignon, munched on caviar, and talked on her cellular telephone about the stock markets and that week’s episode of Downton Abbey.
Work. America. Ford. Chevy. Freedom. This is who runs this magazine? No wonder it’s such an East Coast, elitist, liberal rag.
I am on winter break from school and had a chance to read something besides a textbook. I read your editor’s note and thought I should suggest looking into a Honda. I remember that BMW and Mercedes, seems like a lifetime ago. When I traded my Honda in, it was 13 years old, had 120,000 miles and still ran like a champ. The only reason I got rid of it was because Eric was nervous with all of the driving I would be doing starting the nursing program. I never once had any major issues with that car, and you know how long I had it. I did a lot of research before buying my next car, and with Eric in a small convertible now, it was time for me to get an SUV. I decided on the Hyundai Santa Fe and could not be happier. Great gas mileage and plenty of room for the dogs etc. I hope your search for new wheels goes quick and painless. Happy New Year! Please give Lucy a BIG kiss on the nose for me :)
Dear Ms. Washo:
In response to your editorial request re: cars, I recommend a new or used Mercedes. I owned an old 1981 turbo-diesel SD for 18 years. I sold it at 309,000 miles—an amazing car! (See attached story I sent to “Mercedes Momentum” magazine). My mechanic found a new 2001 CLK 320 convertible that a man was returning to the dealer because his wife died suddenly. After owning it for 14 years, it has over 150,000 mi. with no major repairs, only general maintenance. (I guess the only caveat is that mine were both made in Germany, not the U.S.). Hope you find your dream car as I did.
ON OUR 100TH ISSUE
One of the most striking words in the English language is “horror.” Despite its universal definition (according to Webster’s, “a very strong feeling of fear, dread, or shock”), it can be experienced in a thousand different ways by a thousand different people. Some experience that most unique of human conditions when they are being chased by a masked man with a chain saw. Others feel horror begin to slowly creep into their consciousness as they lay eyes on a blind date for the first time. Still others are struck with paralysis after experiencing the horror of seeing a friend wear white after Labor Day (OMG—did you see Jeff and Jessica’s Christmas cards?!)
In my 31 years, the few times that I have ever truly felt the burning grip of horror have been a direct result of CH2 magazine. It first made its way into my life on a cold November morning at Lawton stables as I shimmied my man-tackle into a fancy hobbit costume, all for the amusement of one M. Washo. It continued through an aggressively offensive Internet meme that spawned from the resulting photograph. And, no, jerks, that picture will NOT be my legacy. Despite the constant horrors that Maggie and her cronies brought into my life, I persevered! I overcame! I left the state!
Somehow, an edition of CH2 is still sent to my mother each month, and she religiously saves them and passes them along to me. Receiving the magazine is absolutely akin to receiving a box of Forrest Gump’s chocolates. One piece may bring happiness; after all, I get to see what old friends are up to! Another piece may bring that horrible, ulcer-like pain in my bowels that accompanies the memory of that traumatic morning spent with goats and those tight pants, which may well be a topic of conversation with a reproductive counselor down the road.
Imagine the horror unleashed on my soul on none other than Christmas morning (Jesus’ Birthday!) when my mother pointed out that My Legacy was yet again planted firmly on the pages of your magazine. Now, I sit here in Florida, feeling those feelings all over again. All of the therapy, and all of the hours spent convincing friends that dressing up like a “fancy, girly boy” now seem to be in vain. Rehashing old nightmares. That’s horror.
In all seriousness, that was a blast. Congratulations on 100 great issues! I miss you all! Except for those of you that I don’t know. I’m sure you’re nice, but it’s just that I don’t really know you…and I have issues trusting people because of this thing that Maggie made me do one day.
A Good Guy
Nice of you to give some love to Pierce in the December issue. Damn good man. I’ll never forget his many lessons taught during times when
I was supposed to be selling
something to him.