Montero Mega-Madness! (long)

[Mike Arman <armanmik@n-jcenter.com>]

Never having been particularly averse to pouring gasoline onto already
troubled waters, please indulge me for a few moments while I relate my
experience yesterday in driving (not just bitching about without having
driven one) my brother-in-law's Montero SUV.

Understand that this vehicle was left here, parked in front of my office
(known as "the bat cave") for about a month while he and his family were
out of the country. It had been driven here (Daytona) non-stop from Denver,
and was, shall we say, somewhat gamey - before it spent a month broiling in
the HOT Florida sunshine. On Sunday, dear bride says "Oh, I forgot to empty
the cooler in the Montero!" Arrgghh!

While the thing was here, I got to look it over. Working from back to front
(sheer perversity on my part), we find a pintle hook in the middle of the
rear bumper. Recall please that the image these vehicles attempt to portray
is "rough and ready for anything!" Fine, now I know that not everyone on
this list knows what a pintle hook is: The military uses them on great big,
ugly steel trucks with huge, gnarly tires on them as tow hitches; they hook
howitzers to them and chase Saddam across deserts and stuff. Well THIS
rough and ready for anything pintle hook is held to the bumper with four
itty bitty hardware store type stove bolts, and if you hooked anything
heavier than a bicycle to it, it would rip right off, probably taking the
bumper along with it.

Moving forward, we find all kinds of agressive looking flares and shields,
all molded out of plastic, and some of them are cracked and falling off -
but after all, this is an antique 1995 model and has 37,000 whole miles on it.

On the front, there is a tube frame which protects the headlights, grille,
and radiator - this is, I am told, a "brush guard". To demonstrate the
durability and strength of the brush guard, I put my hand on one end (I am
not Hulk Hogan, by the way), and easily press it into contact with the
fender. Releasing it, it springs back to the original position.

Inside this "a pound of image is better than an ounce of performance"
vehicle, there is an in-dash electronic compass (indicates "South" no
matter which way the vehicle is aimed - that must be significant!),
automatic transmission, air conditioning, lots of hand-holds, fold-up
seats, three (!) sticks in the console, and nestled into a hatch in the
tailgate, a tool kit of the prettiest, most effeminate and delicate tools I
have ever seen.

OK, I am now ready to depart for Orlando International Airport to go get
them. Donning the required black sunglasses and leather jacket (Studley
SUV-Driver, here!), I climb up, way up, into the seat. Remember those great
big aggressive Michelin all-terrain tires? They are about as stable as
riding on beach balls, and they ROAR. This thing goes in a straight line
fairly well, but is exquisitely sensitive to cross winds (or cross breezes)
and feels as though if I had to swerve, even a little, it would promptly
roll over, end over end, or round and round like a dirt track racer. Not a
very secure feeling.

Having survived 60 MPH on the interstate (I REFUSE to go any faster that
that in this beast), and having been passed by almost everything else,
including 10 year olds on Schwinns, I arrive at Orlando International
Airport at noon. No problem, the airplane arrives at 12:45, so I'll have
time to park.

Did I mention that there is a fiberglass luggage box on the roof? A BIG
fiberglass luggage box? A TALL BIG fiberglass luggage box? Big sign:
VEHICLES OVER 7 FEET TALL MUST USE SATTELITE PARKING AREA!!!! OK, this
thing is for darn sure taller than seven feet, so I better go there. Turn
right (Warning! Sharp Turn! 15 MPH), go down dirt road, pass construction
area, out to north side of airport boundary, pass B-52 on display, pass UPS
air freight terminal, pass old passenger terminal, pass INS offices, pass
miles of parking lot, pass main runway, this CAN'T be right - turn around
and retrace steps.

Only problem is you can't get back to there from here. I'm now on the OTHER
side of the airport, touring the vast employee parking area. Only one way
to go, turn here, now I'm UNDER the airport building, in the very dark,
very industrial-rated service areas, with signs reading "Commissary
deliveries only" "No stopping" "No turning" "No admittance - Trespassers
will be shot" and more. Aha, there's a sign for airport exit, let's bail
out completely and start again.

Make illegal U-turn, re-enter airport grounds. Drive slowly past arrivals
concourse (It is 1 PM by now), hoping against hope that brother-in-law will
be standing out front and he has not grown a beard or something and I will
recognize him - no luck. Exit airport, make second illegal U-turn at same
location, try again. Maybe there is a place I can park this oversized
vehicle for long enough to find them - yeah, right. You're dreaming. "You
can't go in there - your vehicle is too tall. Exit here!" "You can't stop
there. If you get out of the car, we will have it towed." "Follow this road
to exit the terminal area!"

Make THIRD illegal U-turn at SAME spot (Intersection of 436 and other major
road, thank you Lord for there never being a policeman around when you
particularly DON'T need one), re-enter airport grounds for THIRD time, and
I give up, I'm going to satellite parking and I don't care if it *IS* in
Miami.

It is - almost. $4 to park for a day or any fraction thereof, fortunately
there is a shuttle bus to the terminal (It is now 1:45), just a short 10
minute ride via expressway and a toll booth. Find brother-in-law and
family, "Where have you been?" "You don't want to know!" Take
brother-in-law on shuttle bus (leaving everyone else and their voluminous
luggage) go retreive Montero. Now 2:15 PM, back at arrival concourse, big
sign: "Loading Zone - 5 Minute Absolute Limit!!!! Or You DIE!" (Underneath:
"Have a nice day - Orlando Airport Authority")

Half an hour later, we have _every_ cubic inch of Montero totally,
absolutely filled - no, STUFFED - with people, luggage, boxes, souveniers,
dirty laundry - no room left for so much as a toothpick! Drive carefully
out of airport for last time, by gum!

Vehicle wallows out of airport, going north on 436, which is a VERY busy 4
to 6 lane divided highway. Chorus of screams: "There's a Booger King! We
wanna stop!" Brother-in-law agrees, chauffeur crosses to left turn lane,
intimidating half a dozen tailgating Camrys - chorus now screams "There's a
Wendys! We wanna stop there instead!" Brother-in-law agrees, chauffeur says
what the heck (or "WTF"), crosses from left turn lane to right turn lane
(can you say "Titanic"?) in one unstoppable swoop, and eliciting screams
and various obscene gestures from other drivers. Any guesses why these
people will hate SUVs?

After feeding the mob and taking all the left over french fries and ketsup
to be smeared around the interior of the vehicle later, re-fill land yacht
and continue cautiously and uneventfully to motel room. Chauffeur ignores
whines of "Are we there yet?" and similar. Arrive motel at 5 PM, door lock
not working correctly and we can't get into the room! Concierge (upscale
desk clerk) finally solves problem, and I can go home . . .

Conclusions:

	SUVs are skittish and unstable when empty or nearly so

	SUVs have inadequate brakes and suspension when full

	SUVs can easily be overloaded - this is encouraged by their "ready for
anything" styling, but not supported by actual vehicle capacity or engineering

	SUVs full of munchkins just back from vacation can lower the driver's IQ
by 50% or more, and totally destroy all semblance of concentration and
situational awareness

	Henceforth, I intend to give SUVs an exceptionally wide berth, even more
so than in the past.

If you've read this far, thanks for letting me vent!

Best Regards,

Mike Arman (Who is eternally glad his life is simple, and appreciates his
Audi even more now.)