Not so long ago, I was the proud owner of a 1999 Volkswagen Jetta. She was the first car I ever purchased, and she treated me well. We spent countless hours, and traversed hundreds of thousands of kilometers together. We had good times and we had bad times. She had been beaten up and put back together, but I loved her. She was my first and I’ll always remember her for that. But sadly, we grew apart.

It was hard to say goodbye, but when I got the opportunity to head out west, it was decided that she’d stay behind. She was getting old and wasn’t sure if she’d fit into the “image conscious” culture of Southern California. She was intimidated by the younger, more powerful cars on the west coast. So we went our separate ways and inevitably, I met someone else.

My next car was fast. She was sleek and sexy. And she was Japanese. I was used to German vehicles, so I wasn’t sure how my new Infiniti G35 Coupe would stack up. She was a different animal, but I loved her even more. She was made for the open roads of Souther California. 300HP hidden beneath a beautiful exterior. 19 inch rims, and 6 gears of pleasure. It was pure enjoyment - windows down, sunroof open, tearing up the Pacific Coast Highway. How could I complain?

But this affair wasn’t meant to last. Reluctantly, she eventually made the trip back to Canada with me. However, once she arrived, reality started to sink in. There are no open roads in the city, and her manual transmission didn’t fare well in the stop-and-go traffic. And the asphalt… it wasn’t smooth like she’d been used to. In fact, it was downright rough - beat up and scarred from the years of winter abuse. And the winter. Ah yes, the snow, ice and salt. Sure, she had heated seats, but she wasn’t up for this. She was too low, and her performance tires wouldn’t hold their own on the icy streets.

Sure, we talked about snow tires for the winter months, but that really wasn’t our biggest issue. It was the cottage. She was ready for the highway driving - in fact, she was looking forward to that - it was the 50 minutes off road that did it. There was no way she’d make it off road. Rocks, ruts, dirt, mud, gravel and water. She couldn’t bare it. That was it. We were done.

With the G35 gone, I felt upset and dejected. I began looking for her replacement, but I didn’t know where to start. So I looked to a broker for help. I needed something that was beautiful, but rugged. Something that could get me to work, and to the cottage. But what? Coming off a Japanese relationship, I started there. But things weren’t the same… It didn’t feel right. Nissan, Toyota and Honda just weren’t cutting it. So I ventured elsewhere. North American? Nope, too unrefined. Swedish? I dug the XC90, but it was a too boring. Korean? Nope, not my style (good warranty though). Feeling rejected, I called on an old friend. Could she help? Would she take me back?

It felt like an arranged marriage. She was purchased at a car auction, and I didn’t actually see her until she was mine. But I’m now the proud owner of a 2004 Volkswagen Touareg. She’s rugged and strong, powerful and refined. And once again, I’m back with a Volkswagen. Only this time, she’s capable of going off road where her predecessor couldn’t.

Jess is currently asleep on the couch. It’s kind of her thing really. Around an hour after we eat, we usually find ourselves watching something on TV. Perhaps it’s something recorded on our PVR. Maybe a movie from NetFlix. On the odd occasion, it’s something live on TV. But it really doesn’t matter what it is, because whatever happens to be playing the TV is nothing but a lullaby for my wife. Gun fire, explosions, yelling, screaming, crying, simple dialog - it matters not, and it’ll put her to sleep. By my estimations, I’d say Jess sleeps an average of 10 hours a night. 7 in bed, and 3 on the couch. The funniest thing is when she wakes up. “Disoriented” is by no means an accurate description. She stumbles around, eyes glassed over, speaking in broken sentences - “I Sleep Now” - and has what I like to call “hair explosion”. And as if these words disturbed her current slumber, she literally just sat up, proclaimed something in what I think was english, took off her glasses, slumped back over and kicked a leg out from under the blanket.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way… I think it’s one of those things you come to love about a person the longer you’re with them.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I was reflecting.

Part 2 - The Cost of Living

In response to Drew’s comment, I thought I’d address the cost of living in California.

On the surface, I’d say it costs a lot less to live in Orange County when compared to Toronto. Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean that we’re actually spending less - if anything, we’re spending more. So let me explain.

The only thing that appears to significantly cost more is real estate. The market here is out of control. If I’m not mistaken, I believe the median price for a home in OC was somewhere in the neighborhood of $710,000 - that puts us at number 2 on the most expensive list. The coastline is more or less spoken for with every viable piece of land (and some not) under development, and it’s quickly moving further inland.

But if you can look past the real estate inflation, you’ll quickly see inexpensive underbelly. For example, I currently drive an Infiniti G35 Coupe 6MT which in the US retails for $37,650. In Canada, the same model will run you $51,972 - that’s about $7,000 difference once you do the conversion.

Some other examples would be the weekly necessities. We shop almost exclusively at Trader Joe’s for our groceries, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s by far the best and cheapest grocery stores around. Target is a favorite of Jess’ - I don’t have the deep-in-my-soul love for it like she does (but I much prefer it to Wal-Mart). Costco may be available in Canada, but down here you can buy massive bottles of vodka for a fraction of the cost… which has to count for something. Hell, even Starbucks will sell you a Grande Latte for less.

Taxes are obviously lower, but that was to be expected. Hydro, gas, water, etc. are all about the same I suppose. Internet and cable are competitive too (with the must-have-all-services-with-one-company bundle). We signed up for Vonage when we got here (in hopes of keeping our old number), which is much less than Bell was back home.

Looking at that, you’d think we’d be saving a ton down here. But that’s not the case. Being that this is California, my take on it was “enjoy it while we’ve got it”. And that’s what I set out to do. So I got the sports car. And the motorcycle. We rented a much larger place down here which costs more than our place in Toronto. We’ve done some traveling (admittedly, a good chunk was covered through work), and if we go out for dinner, we go out! - I think that’s our of our weaknesses really. We both enjoy a good meal.

In the grand scheme of things, I’d say the cost of living is more or less the same as Toronto when you work real estate into the equation. I suppose you could get away with paying less if you decided to live about 20 miles inland, somewhere along the 71 in Chino - but anyone who’s watched the OC knows that’s not the place to be when you’re living in Orange County. There’s a reason MTV picked Laguna Beach.

So Terry, Rowan and I drove up to the Laguna Seca speedway just outside of Monterey this weekend to check out the A1 Grand Prix of Nations. Admittedly, I’m not much of a racing fan, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect - I figured we’d drive the 6 hours, park in some random field and sit in the grandstands hundreds of feet away from the track, all while drinking 22 ounce cans of Bud Light and high-five’ing each other as cars crashed into the wall after a missed turn. And I’m pretty sure that’s what would have happened had Rowan not managed to talk himself into 3 FREE all-access press passes and VIP parking for us. That’s right racing fans, I got to enjoy my first race down in the pits.

So here’s the story - Sometime last week, Rowan makes a few phone calls pleading his case for media credentials. “We’re an online ad agency who’s sending 3 guys to cover the race with plans of posting a detailed account of the event online to help generate awareness of the sport Stateside” (A1 is apparently very popular in Europe). That totally sounds legit, right? Well, apparently not as he didn’t have much luck over the phone. But he did manage to get a few names… names of seemingly important people which were promptly dropped when we arrived at the media registration office early Friday morning.

“Hi, I believe there’s been a mixup. I spoke with Sally and she said I needed to talk with Steve who mentioned that I needed to come here and see Suzan about getting our media passes…” Being that Steve was Suzan’s boss, she conveniently overlooked the fact that we clearly weren’t on the list, and promptly handed us the registration forms. To top it off, she gave us 2 photographer’s bibs which gave us almost complete access to the race track. Oh, and that VIP parking pass which allowed us to park right down on the paddock. So, off we went to do “document” the race, which ironically I ended up doing.

With my camera in tow, I ended up packing away 544 photos in total. Of course I haven’t posted all 544 of them, but instead have weeded it down to a mere 52 for you all to enjoy. We spent some time at the “Andretti Hairpin” and the famous Corkscrew - which my photos don’t do justice. It’s crazy how much of an elevation drop there is, and from the drivers perspective, you can’t see the road as you make the corner. But those vantage points are for the average “general admission” spectators - Not us, we have pit passes! So as expected, we spent the majority if our time down in the pits.

With my extremely fashionable photography bib on (and the knowledge that I had signed a lengthy waiver), we could get right out onto the track and pretty much go wherever we wanted. Obviously we had to keep an eye out for oncoming traffic - which is, by the way, moving WAY faster than you think it is… it’s one thing to see it on TV, it’s something completely different in person. Regardless, it was awesome to have the freedom to watch and capture the race from that perspective. But that said, I was laughably outgunned in comparison to the actual photographers covering the race. Jess called it when I told her we got the press passes - “umm, it’s going to be pretty clear you’re not an actual photographer when you pull out that peashooter”. Nothing was said to my face, but I’m pretty sure the big boys were snickering in the back. Whatever, I think this is where I say something about the motion of the ocean and tuck my little Olympus under my arm and walk away.

I think I’ve got a solid handle on how to use an SLR now, and with the recent revelation that yes, photography is my official hobby, I’m starting to consider the upgrade. I don’t think it’s necessary quite yet, but I’ve definitely reached the limitations of my current body+lens combination. The problem is that the next step is one that will require a pretty sizable investment in some hardware, and I’m pretty sure I want that investment to be made on the Canon platform. Sorry my little friend, but things have changed and it just isn’t going to work between you and I. It’s me, not you… I hope you understand.

Anyway, I suppose that’s a discussion for another time. This was to be about racing, not photography. I know you’ve been teetering on the edge of your seat, so how about I wrap this up? Mexico won.

So, I’m at Target yesterday on my weekly visit to my favorite place on earth.
I frequent the same location and have become freakishly familiar with it’s layout.
As I enter, it becomes apparent that the store has been “chrismafied” since my last visit and the merchandise has been updated for the holidays.
I peruse over to the accessories section and immediately spot the first of my “must haves” for this week. There in front of me are the most adorable hat and mitten sets that I have ever seen. I am giddy with excitement and start narrowing down my favorite combinations. Then it dawns on me, like a quick but swift punch to the gut, the reality of the truth leaves me gasping for air.
I live in California god dammit, it’s never going to be cold enough to sport a toque.
In fact, I think the car temperature gauge would self implode if it ever recorded an outside reading lower than 63 degrees.
Damn you Tar-jay and your deceitful ways for actually tricking me into believing that one day, someday, we may experience a deep freeze warranting the wearing of mittens. Oh I know better. And don’t even get me started on the faux fur wraps. Where am I sporting those? People are still wearing shorts and flip flops and the heart of winter is less than a month away!
What’s next?
Are you going to trick me into believing that if I pray hard enough we might actually have a white Christmas?
Guess what, it ain’t going to happen.
Well, maybe up in Mammoth but not here, that’s for sure.

Leaving the accessories behind feeling foolish and ashamed, I glance over at the women’s section just in time for a pair of pants to catch my attention. I inspect the cargo style little numbers and determine that they are very cute and cargo-ee* indeed.
As I am ruffling through trying to find my size I glance at the hangtag and am a little shocked to find that I am apparently shopping in the Juniors section.
Now I have a moral dilemma.
Is it appropriate for a 27 year old women to be sporting a pair of pants designed for tweens?
I decide to let the pants make that decision and after going up a few sizes (since most ten year olds don’t have hips), I head back to the change room pants in tow.

Needless to say I am the proud new owner of a pair of Mossimo labeled Junior Cargo pants and the love affair with Target continues.

*cargo-ee: to be adorned with numerous pockets, buttons, snaps and other accouterment to schlep any cargo my heart so desires.

So I got an opportunity to take a spin in Terry’s Ferrari this morning. Wow, what a car. It’s hands down the quickest vehicle I’ve been in. His Ferrari is a limited edition 360 Challenge Stradale, 1 of 750 which were sold in North America (or so I’m told). The Stradale is basically a stock 360 Modena with all “non-essential” items removed or replaced with carbon fiber alternatives for weight reduction, and other aspects tuned and modified for increased performance. If you will - it is a bare bones, street legal, racing machine. “Fast” is an understatement.

We took the car down to what I’ll call an “regular impromptu” car show in Newport Beach. This car show takes place every Saturday morning where all of the rich car enthusiasts park their rare and exotic cars in parking lot at 7:00 am, buy a Starbucks, and walk around chatting it up with the other rich car enthusiasts. There was quite an assortment of cars, ranging from authentic Shelby Cobras to fresh-of-the-lot Ferraris. I’m told this morning was a poor showing as most of the exotics weren’t there (apparently there was a show in Monetary last week, and many of the vehicles haven’t returned yet). If this morning was a “poor showing”, I have a feeling I’ll be going back again.