Foggy Morning Walk
My never listening to terrestrial radio has bit me in the butt. Turns out there has been a reggae radio station here in Portland all along. Only stumbled on it because of the GTI. Unlike the ND Miata, Android Auto is wired, and sometimes when taking a short trip to the store, it isn’t worth the “hassle” of going through hooking it up, so I scanned the FM band and found it.
It appears to be a pirate radio station based right across the Columbia River in Vancouver, WA. The good news is that it is just non-stop music, no commercials, nothing, and it also hits the sweet spot of just classic reggae and ska. The downside is it is a low-power station, so it can’t be heard very far away, but that is not a problem for my usage.
Now, excuse me while I go read the owner’s manual to figure out how to set a preset on the radio.
West Salish Pond
I was going to title this post “The End Of An Era?” but swapped it to the current one. Why, you might ask? When I opened WordPress, the song Radio Paradise was playing was by the Travelling Wilburys, called “End of the Line.”
I took the GTI to the local VW dealer to have them run the system checks they normally do when someone comes in for service. I also had them do an oil change because, for all I knew, it was the original 5-year-old oil. The car has only 14,000 miles on it, and that is below the synthetic oil lifespan. An hour and a half later, with a clean bill of health, we headed home. I’m really liking this car, and I’ll be driving it almost exclusively for the next 5 months. The Miata will get limited attention until late March.
Do I really need two cars? This led to a dark corner of my mind; maybe it’s time to get rid of the Miata. I know, sacrilege! I’ve owned a Miata for 35 years, and they are still a blast, but the GTI is 80% a blast. I hate the idea of it just sitting around; it should be blasting around winding roads, not staring at the backside of a Golf.
Ask me again in a week.
Old Guys in GTIs Club
Saturday morning before starting out on the Mt. Hood drive, I headed over to Stomping Grounds to get my usual Salted Caramel Latte. My timing was great; there was a car backing out of the spot right in front of the door. As I got out, I noticed in a spot a couple slots away was a Black GTI. Same black wheels, same black color. What are the odds?
As I walk into the place, I notice a table right there with a couple of old guys, AKA my peers, drinking coffee and chatting. Two steps later the fellow facing me and the outside says, “Nice car, what year?” I instantly clock that he must be the other black GTI owner and say, “2020, thanks. What year is yours?” “2024,” he replies, “the last year with a manual. It is the S trim, meaning no sunroof and the Clark plaid seats.” “I searched for that spec specifically. Had to be manual with the plaid seats,” I tell him. The rest of the conversation revolves around wanting one back in the early 80s when they first came out. So he asks, “How old are you?” “Seventy, you?” I say. “76,” he says.
By now my latte is ready, so I grab it and give him a wave on the way out. I’d like to think that maybe if he was alone I would have asked if I could have sat with him and chatted some more. Probably not, but while ruminating on the missed connection, I came up with the idea of a club for old guys in GTIs. I spent 30 minutes on ChatGPT trying to get the right image, and this is the best I could do.
Mt Hood From OR-35
After taking some more Mt. Hood photos, I opted to return home on the Washington side of the Columbia River. So I crossed the Hood River Bridge to get on WA-14. This bridge has a toll, but it doesn’t have booths; it takes photos of the license plate of the car, and they mail you a bill to get their $3.50. I don’t have plates on the GTI yet; all that I have are the paper CarMax ones. So will CarMax get that toll bill in the mail?
Night Vision
Never say never.