WomanOnWheels.ca

These are some of the biggest things trucks have towed

Trucks pulling trains, trucks pulling trains, trucks pulling...flags? Yes, for the sake of showing how tough their vehicles are, automakers love to hook them up to Big Things and pull them along. Take a look at some of the biggest in my story at Driving.ca.

Some fun factoids about vehicles

You burn more gas if you have more gas, a stiff car rides better than a soft one, and limiting the top speed isn't about the engine. Find out about these and more in my fun story over at the National Post (Driving.ca).

Ten auto innovations that flopped

Automakers are always trying new things, and while many of them turn out to be hits, there are a few that make it to market but then don't make it in the market. How about retractable steering wheels, heartbeat sensors, or in-car record players? Find out more in my story at the National Post (Driving.ca).

And now...our Driving.ca blooper reel

I work with a very talented bunch of folks at Driving.ca, and we make a lot of videos. But sometimes those two do not go hand-in-hand ... so this time around, check out the blooper reel.

The strange stuff that used to be on cars...

Chrome that'll kill you, headlights with almost no light, and horsehair for clean air ... find out more in my story at the National Post (Driving.ca).

You Can ... And You Should!

All about license plates

There's a lot more to license plates than just the cost to renew them. Over the years they've been made out of everything from porcelain to soybeans; in some jurisdictions they're still made by prisoners; and if your plate starts peeling, you may be on the hook for its replacement. Find out more in my story over at AutoTRADER.

If you're not driving, try these auto-themed drinks

While not all of the cocktails are actually tied to automobiles, I've compiled a list of auto-themed cocktails to stir your shaker. Find them over at AutoTRADER.

Looking for gearhead Christmas gifts?

Look no more -- I've rounded up some pretty cool ones for the auto lover on your list. Find 'em over in my gallery at AutoTRADER.

The good, the bad, and the ugly of 2014

For its year-end wrap-up, the Wheels section of the Toronto Star asked its contributors to outline the good and not-so-good stuff that happened over the year. If the picture doesn't give you a hint about how 2014 was for me, slide over and check out the story.

Come visit Woman On Wheels on Facebook!

Each day, it seems, I get one tiny step closer to figuring out how the social media universe works. My latest conquest is Facebook, where you can now see my Woman On Wheels page - check it out here!

Some tunes for the road ...

On Autos.ca, writer (and musician) Chris Chase has been putting together a weekly story on music for driving. This week I'm the guest stereo-tuner, and I put aside my opera eight-tracks and found some cool tunes for the column. You can read all about it by clicking here.

Pimp my PC!

 I'm in Las Vegas at SEMA, the world's largest auto aftermarket show, and this has to be the coolest item so far. It's a computer.

Yes, really. The motherboard's inside, you put your Blue Ray discs in through the grille, and you plug your USB, keyboard and mouse into the back end. The company will be coming out with a Corvette shortly, and then a whole list of new vehicles. I think this just might pick up the innovation award for the show. Check 'em out at PC Rides.

Ah, the good old days ...

I was leafing through a copy of the Guinness Book of World Records, the 1974 edition -- the one I should have been in, having broken the old record for writing the world's longest letter, a record that stood for 30 years, and it turned out someone else had exactly the same idea and wrote another 20,000 words more than I did, but I'm not bitter no sir not me -- and got to the automotive section. How things have changed.

The most expensive production car in the world was the seven-seat Rolls-Royce Phanton VI with coachwork by Park Ward. This car would have set you back the equivalent of $38,900. That was the winner at press time, though, since the book mentioned that the 1974 Ferrari Boxer was expected to hit $48,000.

Porsche had the record for the fastest production car, the Type 917, which hit 238 mph in 1971. It would have held the money record had it been exported -- the book reports that it would have been as much as $92,000.

Of course, all things are relative: working as a receptionist in 1974, my mother took home about $62 a week. I still remember her paying for a large load of groceries with a $50 bill, which required that the cashier get authorization from the store manager, and write down the serial number before she could accept a note that large.

How a gearhead starts her day ...

With 91-octane coffee! The sign came from the Hershey automotive flea market. The coffee cup honors Supertest, a defunct Canadian gasoline company. While I haven't been able to prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt, it appears that the original owner of my 1947 Cadillac was Supertest's founder. 

A blast from the past ...

Now here's a blast from the past. Many centuries ago, when I was working at a car dealership, one of the cleanup guys gave me a jacket with this crest on it. It still does duty as work-chore apparel.

You could probably date the jacket simply by the fact that it was made in Canada. But car fans will know right away what each of these nameplates has in common.

You drive what?

If you haven't seen the website You Drive What?, then click away and get ready to laugh. I just hope your car isn't one of these.

Wedding pictures, or a day at a car show?

I was going through some photographs and found this gem. Yes, this is what happens when gearheads get married -- they drive themselves to the wedding. I arrived at the wheel of my red 1947 Cadillac, while he showed up in his pink 1957.

And don't laugh too hard at the dress or the hair. Hey, it was 1987 -- none of us knew any better back then! 

The greatest car chase movie EVER!

Forget Bullitt. Forget The French Connection. Forget The Italian Job and Ronin and Jade.

THIS is the greatest car chase movie EVER.

 

Traffic Cones: A Scientific Study

You drive by them on the side of the road, and never give them another thought. You notice some are different, but then your attention goes back to whatever's playing on the radio. Sometimes, you've even mowed them down in cold blood on a racetrack.

They're traffic cones. And it's time you paid attention to them.

You can find out more at the Traffic Cone Preservation Society. Spend some time getting to know these fascinating creatures. I'll bet you didn't know that they've evolved over millions of years, that there are numerous species, and that some are even endangered. You can even join the Society and help to make others aware of how important these cones really are.

More Little Red Flyer Wagon!

My husband is at it again -- he had a chance to drive his Honda-powered Radio Flyer wagon on the track at Shannonville.

The best-selling car of 2008: Cheap and plastic!

What outsold the top-ranked Toyota Camry and Honda Accord in the U.S. in 2008? What would be among the top 20 all-time best-selling cars in the world, ahead of the BMW 3 Series? Why, it's this little number here, the Little Tikes Cozy Coupe.

It has some auto heritage of its own: it was designed by Jim Mariol, who previously worked on designs at Chrysler. And from humble beginnings in Macedonia, Ohio thirty years ago, the Cozy Coupe went on to sell more than 10 million units.

For that, it's being enshrined in the Crawford Auto-Aviation Museum in Ohio this month, with one of the first 1979 models and the newest 30th Anniversary Edition going on display. And in a world of offshore toy production, the Cozy Coupe still comes off the assembly line in Hudson, Ohio, one per minute, every minute of the day, 50 weeks a year.

Just what we need: another blog!

The world doesn't need another blogger, but I needed another blog. There are times when things cross my mind, and I'd like to write them down to share, but they just don't fit in with the auto-themed condo I have here.

So I have a separate site for all of that, which you can find by clicking here.

It's still new and so there isn't much there, but if you want to keep an eye on it, you can watch it grow.

Drinking when not driving: Nothing like a good glass of beer

 

Here's my idea of a righteous day: a decent drive in a nice car (preferably a hot rod), and then, when the keys are put away, sitting down with friends over a glass of good beer. Normally my tipple of choice is Guinness, but I like to try everything, and so when I saw a beer called Old Engine Oil in the liquor store, I simply had to buy it. It's damn good beer, and don't you just love that label?

This is the saddest day in Canada ...

Today is the saddest day in Canada. If you're Canadian, chances are good you know what I mean. If you're not, well, it's because tonight marks the very last episode of Corner Gas.

To say that this gentle sitcom changed the face of Canadian television is an understatement. From this day forward, the Canadian entertainment scene will be divided into two phases: BCG (Before Corner Gas) and ACG (well, you know).

This show was our I Love Lucy, our Honeymooners, our M*A*S*H, our Seinfeld. When my husband went to American events wearing his Corner Gas shirt, it was like wearing the flag -- every Canadian around came up to comment on it. Much of the country stopped every Monday night to watch it. Canadian celebrities popped up regularly on it, including two Prime Ministers.

I had the opportunity to interview Brent Butt, the creator and star, and it was a real pleasure to speak with him; he was funny, fascinating, and without a trace of big-star ego. I started the telephone conversation by repeating a line from one of the shows. He instantly went into character and answered with the line that had followed it in the program.

And now it's over. I'm glad, in a way, that it's going out on a high note, instead of being dragged out past its prime. It's been six seasons. And yet, it shouldn't be over, not yet. I know this: there will never be another show like it. Thanks for everything, guys. And now it's almost time for the very last episode to begin.

And the Teletubbies want to test-drive it ...

  India's Tata Motors has unveiled a version of its inexpensive Nano car -- the one that made headlines for its $2,000 target price -- at the Geneva Auto Show.

Fine and good. But it wasn't until I started to write about it that I realized how much Tata unveils Nano sounds either like a press release from Fisher-Price, or an episode of Star Trek ...

Try doing this on a computer!

You have to love a band that calls itself the Boston Typewriter Orchestra -- and those are the instruments they play! Check them out by clicking here.

Hot rods: just too much damn fun

Last night being one of the first in recent memory without a torrential downpour, I fired up the Studebaker and headed out to the local cruise night. I'd forgotten just how much fun I can have with this truck.

The Stude used to be my daily driver from April through November; it was how I got to work, bought my groceries home, and how we hauled everything from a queen-sized mattress to our kitchen cupboards back from the store. It saw less use when I started reviewing cars, because you can't judge a vehicle when it's sitting in the driveway. That's a shame, because this little truck's a blast.

I went out to a local cruise night, one of the real ones that are still the way it "used to be". No offense to the guys who work so hard to present regular cruise nights each week, but I'm not a fan of being told what year vehicles can come into the roped-off area of the mall parking lot, and here's your ticket, and park where the attendants tell you, and when the last prize of the night is drawn, everyone fires up their cars and drives straight home via the shortest route possible.

No, this one out here (Pete's Big Bite in Whitby, Ontario, if you're ever out on a Friday night after about 9 pm) is as it was in the beginning: you come in, wait until one of the families getting a meal gets back in the minivan and vacates a spot, you double-park if necessary, and you hang around and talk cars until you've had enough, and then you slowly cruise on home because the night's so nice, and the car's running just right, and you're in the coolest thing on the road, and it's just good to be alive. Gas is how much a litre? At times like this, I really don't care.

What's that again?

Every now and again, Transport Canada will send me a list of the latest recalls; apparently, the agency gets the notice from the auto manufacturer and just runs it verbatim. So I'm not sure if it was someone at the government or someone at Cadillac, but taking a few bucks out of the kitty to purchase a dictionary might not be a bad idea:

No remedial action is required due to the unlikely-ness of such an occurrence.

Letters? Oh, yes, I get letters ...

As a freelancer, I work at home, rather than in an office; there are times I feel like I'm working in a bubble. That's why it's nice to get feedback from readers, whether it's through the printed newspaper or my online work. But every now and again, well ... let me share some examples from the mailbag.

The conspiracy theorist: A reader wanted me to investigate and expose GM for false advertising, claiming that it was advertising a car at a higher mile-per-gallon average than he figured its L/100 km rating was when converted. I investigated ... and reported that if he'd converted into Canadian gallons, instead of the smaller American ones, the math would work ...

Now there's an incentive: The inventor of a new auto-related product asked me to feature the product in a story -- in effect, a free ad. In return, he said, "I promise to read all your stories twice each time if you do."

I must have been asleep that day: A reader chided me for writing about new cars, and giving up my newspaper column on used cars. I told him I'd never written a column on used cars. He said I had, called me a fraud, and said he'd check the previous issues to prove it. Needless to say, I didn't hear from him again...

Feeling gassy: A reader was told by the dealer that her brand-new vehicle had been filled at an Esso station, but she wanted to patronize the Petro-Canada station closer to her house, and asked me what damage she might do to the engine by changing brands.

I think I saw that already: A reader mailed me a copy of a magazine article on old trucks, thinking I'd be interested in it. He apparently didn't notice that I'd written it.

Yes, that's a good reason: Someone complained when I found fault with a Pontiac; I needed to "stick to the positive," he said, "because GM employs the most people per car."

Ooookay: I mentioned that two mechanically-identical models had "unique sheet metal" to describe the styling. Someone wrote and told me I was wrong; he'd called the company, who confirmed they used the same type of sheet metal in both.

I'll get right on that: "Would you mind ranking, in order, the safest minivan to the least. Also, please confirm my assumption that American cars use soft metal that quickly loses its compression, thereby increasing fuel consumption after only five years."

Those were the days ...

That's me, age 13, on my mother's new car, a 1972 Plymouth Scamp. (She just about had a bird when the photos came back from the drugstore.) I learned to drive on that car when I was 17, and not long afterwards, it became the first car I owned. Less than a year after I learned to drive, believe it or not, the city of Toronto gave me a taxi driver's license.

I was thinking about that Plymouth the other day, and the cabs I drove in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when I was assessing a brand-new car and marking against it because it had very few storage cubbies.

How times have changed. My Plymouth had a glovebox and an ashtray, and that was it. With the cabs, we'd sometimes buy plastic consoles that sat on the transmission hump. They could be a pain if someone wanted to sit in the middle, though, because most cars had front bench seats.

Cars didn't have cupholders back then, save for the inside of my glovebox's metal lid, which had a couple of indentations to hold a mug if you stopped at A&W for a root beer. I don't remember people drinking anything when they actually drove. We did in the taxis, because there wasn't time to stop. Coffee shops used styrofoam cups, not paper, and we'd wedge them between the dash and the windshield. Some guys bought cupholders that hung off the windowframe, but they were more trouble than they were worth. We'd put a lid on the cup and then tear out a hole so we could drink on the go, and sometimes passengers would marvel at such a great idea. Now the lids come with the holes already scored.

Cars didn't have door pockets. They didn't have a mirror on the passenger door, but they did have vinyl roofs that were definitely not the stylist's finer moment. If you ordered a rear defogger, it was a fan in the parcel shelf that blew warm air on the window, very noisily. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven the day I got a taxi that had air conditioning, power windows and power locks. It was like driving a Cadillac. And those were back in the days when the only thing better than a Cadillac was a Rolls Royce. Good heavens, I feel old.

Why I don't have children, Part II

This so-called adult is my husband, who had a half-built go-kart frame, a 5.5-horse motor, a couple of old Radio Flyer wagons, a welder, and far too much time on his hands.

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Why I don't have children ...

I don't need 'em. Not when I have a spouse who thinks that the only good Radio Flyer wagon contains a 5.5-horsepower motor, and he's got the car-building skills to back it up.

I can hear him running around in the back forty with it right now. I suspect by this time next week, I'll probably be a widow ...

Where it all began ...

a I was going through some old paperwork and happened across this. It's the stub from my first paycheque as a writer.

It's dated May 9, 1970 and it's for $25.00. I was eleven years old and you better believe that was a huge sum of money back then. My mother was a receptionist at an auto bodyshop and she took home $62 a week.

The paper was the Toronto Telegram, now defunct (although I don't think my story was to blame). They had a special section for children, and they'd ask for submissions -- double-spaced, please, and don't forget to keep a carbon copy for yourself. I wrote a fantasy story about a flying horse, and lo and behold, it became the very first piece I had printed. They even included a little sketch of the horse that I'd sent with it. And a few days later, this incredible cheque came in the mail.

I'd been writing for some time before that; I spent almost all of my spare time in the recreation room, tapping out stories on an ancient Underwood Standard Typewriter that my grandfather bought for me (and which I still have, sitting here in my office). This was my first published piece, and from that moment on, I knew that no matter what, I was going to be a writer. I did manage to make that dream come true. And in an odd twist, if you look at the short length of the piece I sold them and the buying power of the dollar back then, I don't think I've had a story since that's paid quite as well. As they say, I peaked early, and it was all downhill from there.

Okay, I'm old ...

A little secret: I like tattoos, and I have several of them, including one that's a copy of the Studebaker logo, in honor of my 1949 pickup truck.

I'm going to get another one next week (non-automotive-related) and I dropped by my tattoo shop today to hand in some artwork. My artist was gone for the day, but I met his young apprentice, who asked if I had any work by the older master.

Why yes, I said, and proceeded to show him the logo. "That's the Studebaker crest," I said.

He replied, "I'm sorry. I don't know what Studebaker means."

I'd probably just buy one Rolls-Royce ...

I frequently have my breakfast in a bagel shop down the road, and since I've usually got a test car, that's what I drive. The test car will change weekly, so I'm always showing up in something different.

Not that long ago, the two ladies who work there came over and said, "We don't mean to be rude. But we have to know ... you've always got another car. What do you do?"

I explained that I'm an auto reviewer, and these are vehicles lent to me for the purpose of driving and evaluating them.

"Oh," said the one. "We thought you were just rich!"

Viva Las Vegas!

I sure would like to be in Las Vegas today. It's the annual Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekend, and what a great event that is.

I've only been once, in 2006, but I loved every minute of it. It's primarily a music weekend that has a car show attached to it, but being a fan of all aspects of the event -- rockabilly music, tattoos and hot rods -- I was in heaven.

The car show is primarily for rat rods, those rough-and-tough unfinished beauties that have burrowed their way into my heart. And I also love the fact that the show isn't about the "traditional" 1950s music -- which has been so done to death at car shows that I now loathe Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper -- but the raw music that seldom made its way to the mainstream.

And I love the people. Unlike the average 1950s car show, where older men and women squeeze into poodle skirts and jeans and pretend to be teenagers, these folks go for grown-up glamor (this lovely lady is Tanya Harris, who looked just marvelous beside a 1929 Ford). To the day I die, one of my favorite moments is sitting at the tiki pool party, watching young women in Betty Grable swimsuits posing poolside and listening to a band singing Rock Around the Clock in Spanish.

You can read my full report here. And next year, try your best to get there. I promise it'll be more fun than you can possibly imagine.

Never underestimate a cowboy ...

I was going through some pictures and came across this, and thought, hey, there's a story within a story. This was during the launch of the updated 2008 BMW 5 Series. The company put a group of journalists into the cars in Las Vegas, and we drove them to Monterey, California.

That's a lot longer than the average press trip, and my deadline fell smack in the middle of it. The problem is that I write in linear fashion: if I don't have the first line, I can't write the story. And try as I might, I didn't have a first line. The clock was ticking, and I was desperately trying to come up with something. Nothing sounded right; nothing worked. It was getting on for three o'clock, and I had to have the story done that night.

Well, every now and again, the world just turns in the right direction for you. BMW had turned the trip into a bit of a scavenger hunt, and we had to stop at a general store in the middle of nowhere. Other than the general heading of "California", I had no idea where we were. We hadn't seen any living thing other than cattle for two hours. Why this store even existed was beyond us, but we pulled in, and that's when I noticed the beat-up old Ford pickup across the road. A cowboy got out, as lean and dry and weathered as a Joshua tree, and he came over and looked at my German-made machine. I fully expected him to ask what type of car it was.

"Nice car," he said.

"Thanks," I said.

He looked at it, and then drawled through a walrus moustache, "That must be a brand-new one. The ones last year didn't have them headlights."

(You can read the whole thing here.)

What REAL horsepower is all about ...

I just realized that today is April 3rd -- time to start counting the days until that moment when cars mean absolutely nothing. On May 3rd, the first Saturday in May, I will make myself a mint julep, park in front of the television, and take in the Kentucky Derby. (So far I'm rooting for Pyro, which means he probably won't win.)

Yes, I'm a horse racing fanatic. I don't bet much, if at all; I just love to watch them run. And this year marks 35 years since I saw one who turned out to be the greatest of them all. It was on television, mind you -- try as I might, I've never been able to get tickets for the Derby, and while packages are available you need to mortgage your house to buy one -- but I've never forgotten it. Through the magic of the mail, I have every Derby program from 1971, including one for May 5, 1973.

The Derby is the first of three races that make up the illustrious Triple Crown, along with the Preakness and Belmont. Only eleven horses have won all three since 1919, the last in 1978. By 1973, racing fans had gone 25 years without a Triple Crown winner, but it looked like one horse had a chance. His name was Secretariat, and although he was an American horse, his trainer was from Quebec and his jockey was from New Brunswick.

Well, he won the Derby by two and a half lengths, and his record time of 1:59-2/5 still stands. On May 19 he went to Baltimore for the Preakness, and in the first turn, he surged from last place to the lead, which he held right to the finish. He'd have set the official speed record for that race too, if the teletimer hadn't malfunctioned.

So in June it was off to New York for the Belmont, but Secretariat had his critics. His breeding indicated speed at shorter distances, and at a mile and a half, the Belmont was one of the longest races in America. He wasn't undefeated; he'd lost three races prior to the Derby (one by disqualification). And it's a tough campaign: most horses who win the first two lose the third. Not everyone was convinced, although I sure had faith in him. But even among those who believed in his ability, nobody -- nobody -- expected what ultimately happened.

Well, that day, he cemented his place in history. You can talk about your overtime goals, your triple plays and your checkered flags until you're blue in the face. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the greatest moment ever in professional sports.

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Would you let this woman fix your car?

I was going through some old photos and found this one. I'd all but forgotten this!

I think this photo was taken some 27 years ago. I went to visit my aunt in Michigan and found her somewhat upset because her trusty Studebaker had developed a nasty exhaust leak. She didn't like spending money and didn't want to take it to the shop, so I offered to fix it for her. Of course she couldn't bear the thought of me getting dirty, so she found a pair of my late uncle's overalls, along with one of his work shirts and a bandana to wrap around my head. I think it took me longer to get all dressed than it did to fix the car!

In "loo" of anything else to say ...

You have to admit, it isn't every day someone shows you pictures of her bathroom ... 

... but I will. I thought I'd have some fun showing off what originally started as a single taxi-themed coffee mug. This is my taxi memorabilia collection. (Most of it, anyway. There's a bit more on the walls, and a rooflight on top of the toilet.)

Back in 1977, I got my taxi license, and became the youngest driver in Toronto; I drove for six years for East End Taxi. I originally wanted to be a driving instructor, but you had to be 21 years old. The city fathers figured I wasn't old enough to sit in the passenger seat, but was mature enough for other people to put their lives in my hands as I sat behind the wheel. I never hurt anybody, although a few passengers did threaten to hurt me.

Much of my collection consists of run-of-the-mill toys, but I've got a few gems in there. Among them are a cardboard checker game, sent by Checker to its clients, still with checker discs untouched (I don't dare pull the sheet out) and matching Christmas envelope; a "Safe Driver" cap badge from Yellow Cab; the fare sheet from my own taxi; a sill plate that went on taxi-specific Dodge models, with "Dodge Taxi" embossed in it; and a porcelain Checker made by Limoges, a generous gift from my best friend (who drove alongside me back then, and we've been best buds ever since).

I've also got taxi pencils, taxi rulers, taxi ashtrays, taxi lighters, taxi licenses, taxi magnets, taxi Christmas ornaments and taxi tin toys. I buy many of my items from the big automotive flea market in Hershey, Pennsylvania each year (I don't do eBay) and taxi memorabilia is surprisingly rare, but I always manage to find something.

Why the bathroom, you ask? Well, our house is very small, we don't have a recreation room, and my office -- the only spare room in the house -- is crammed with books. So we figured, if you're sitting there anyway, you might as well have something to keep you occupied.

Besides, the garage already contains 3,000 Hot Wheels and 200 die-cast cars. Did I mention I married a collector, too?

Just for fun ...

No reason for this, just that it's great fun. This is Corb Lund, a singer from Edmonton, Alberta, with a cool song about trucks.

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