larrymccoyonline.com 
The Ins And Outs Of Getting In And Out Of A Mitsubishi

  

      Introducing the Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder! It was the car assigned to
   us when 
we got to the Avis counter at the Savannah Airport. (Excuse me.
   The 
Savannah/Hilton Head INTERNATIONAL Airport. Under a little
   known 
FAA regulation, any airport that serves either Colombian coffee
   or French fries is 
entitled to squeeze the word “International” into its
   name.)
      According to my Avis profile, I prefer a stodgy, mid-size car, and the
   first thing 
I saw in row F in the Avis lot when I came out of the airport--
   with two large 
suitcases on a baggage cart, a knapsack on my back, two
   computers hanging 
from various limbs and the car keys and contract
   stuffed in my cargo pants --
was a  Chevy Nectarine or something. I
   assumed that’s us and pressed the door 
opening button on the key.
   There was a chirp but the doors didn’t unlock. I 
put down one of the
   computers, pressed the door opener button again, again 
heard an
   electronic chirp but the doors on the Chevy were still locked. 
      The third time I pushed the button Irene, who is always ahead of
   me, said 
“it’s the convertible, here.” Sure enough, the lights flashed
   on the car next to 
the Chevy, the Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder, a con-
   vertible. I had not asked for a c
onvertible. Although it was close to
   Irene’s birthday, this trip wasn’t planned 
as a special vacation, merely
   a week at a condo complex in Hilton Head. 
      My first close look at the Eclipse Spyder was its trunk. I am happy
   to report 
it does have a trunk. I must also report one (1) piece of luggage
   takes up the 
entire trunk. It would hold, I reckon, one piece of luggage
   or three watermelons. 
Having forgotten to bring any watermelons, I
   squeezed one
bag into the trunk 
and then went to the driver’s door.

      The Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder has a back seat, but I don’t know why.
   No one
over the age of 15 months could fit there. Even if a small person
   would agree t
o try to get into the back seat, I doubt that they could do it.
   The seat belt for 
the driver’s seat forms a webbed barrier when the seat
   is pushed forward. There 
being no such obstacle on the passenger's side,
   we managed to maneuver, twist 
and shove the second piece of luggage
   into the back seat along with the two 
computers and the knapsack.
 
     Ah ha. It was now time to get into the car, to put our butts on the
   seats like 
people do in normal automobiles made by the Japanese, the
   Swedes, the South 
Koreans, the Germans, the Italians, the Indians, and
   the Americans. There would 
appear to be no graceful way to enter the
   Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder at any age let alone at age 71 +. To say the
   seats are low to the ground is to say the sand in 
Hilton Head is low to
   the beach. The best technique I found was to squat as 
though you have
   been on a long walk in the woods and suddenly have to go 
to the
   bathroom very badly. From the squatting position, you immediately
   pivot 
to the right -- there should be as little time as possible between
   the squat and the
pivot or otherwise the air could be punctuated by
   small, unwelcome man-made 
rockets. After pivoting, you collapse
   sideways into the seat,
taking care to duck 
your head and watch your
   arms and elbows so they don’t strike the gear shift. 
(You will be pleased
   to know that, yes, the engineers of the Mitsubishi Eclipse 
Spyder did
   find room for a gear shift. And it’s in the front not the back.)
 
     After a self-performed census of your body parts and adjustments to
   various 
pieces of clothing that have become entangled on features in
   the interior of the 
car, you put the key in the ignition. As the car starts,
   you take an inventory of 
the dash board, finding the windshield wipers,
   the gas gauge, the lights, the 
radio. Then it’s time to adjust the mirrors.
   That’s when you notice that instead 
of a rear window the Mitsubishi
   Eclipse Spyder has an oval peep hole about the 
size of an omelet. Not
   believing this is possible, you turn in the driver’s seat and 
look back. In
   most cars, there is a lot of glass in the back, affording a view of what’s
   behind you. Not on this baby. When you look back, what you see is lots
  
of convertible top. That means your view of what’s behind you is limited
   to 
what you can see out of the clear omelet these brave Japanese
   designers have 
given you.

      Well, this will be interesting you say. You then adjust the side mirrors.
   You know 
you can compensate a little for your inability to see anything
   through the back
window by looking into the side mirror by the driver’s
   seat and turning your head 
to the left to double check before changing
   lanes. There is no such easy fix for 
your lack of vision on the right hand
   side of the car. The right hand mirror states
the truth when it says, in
   little lettering at the bottom,“Objects In Mirror Are 
Closer Than They
   Appear.” So that giant Mayflower moving van you just
passed looks at
   least 20 feet from you in the mirror when in fact it is two feet 
away.

      If I didn’t have a convertible at home I really like – a fairly roomy
   VW Cabrio
-- 
if we weren’t going to warm, sunny Hilton Head, I might
   have gone back to the 
Avis counter and said, “I know you’re busy. I
   appreciate you have upgraded me to 
a convertible, but how about I
   just be my usual unadventuresome self and stick 
with that Chevy
   Nectarine next to the Mitsubishi?”
 
     I didn’t do anything like that. I put the car in “Reverse,” asked the
   brave co-pilot-
navigator to check on her side of the car, and began to
   slowly back up. There was 
a sharp beeping sound. On the dash there
   was a light flashing under
an image of 
a convertible top. Perhaps the
   sharp beeping was a warning that the top was about
to blow off. I pushed
   a “Close” button next to the light. The beeping continued 
when I backed
   up, so one of us pushed the light itself. Still beeping. When you 
stop the
   car, the beeping stops. You put the car in “Drive” and the beeping
   resumes.
      This was when I decided to take a lap around the lot and find someone 
in
   a red Avis uniform. The man I found showed me how to adjust the 
   mirrors, 
using a grid with arrows on the dash. I asked about the beeping
   but whatever it
was he said I didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t understand
   what I was asking, 
or, if he did, he didn’t know the answer.

      Oh the hell with it, I thought and off we drove. The beeping always
   stopped
after a few seconds, although for the first few days we kept
   pushing “Close” and 
“Open” as well as the light showing the convertible
   top. None of that did anything.
 
     Twice during our trip I put the top down for the drive to the Hilton
   Head Rec 
Center to play basketball. It’s hard to beat that. Cruising
   along with the sun and 
wind on your face, the latest U2 album in the
   CD player. With the top down you 
discover something else, this is a
   very loud car, about as loud as that mammoth 
Mayflower moving van,
   which is now only two inches away from your bumper.

      Like most rentals, an owner’s manual was not to be found in the glove
  
compartment. That might have told us how to stop the beeping. Many
   cars -- 
most cars – also have slots or compartments on the inside of the
   front doors,
places where you can put a map, sunglasses, a couple of
   tapes or CDs or a 
peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The Mitsubishi
   Eclipse Spyder comes with
an extremely tiny slot, a good place to get
   a f
inger stuck should you want to practice your talent at one-handed
   driving. 
Should you be planning a long drive, this slot looks just big
   enough to hold 
one Oreo or, if you are trying to cut back on sweets,
   one thin gherkin.

      There was another curious characteristic of this car. When you turned
   on 
the ignition, the clock above the dashboard briefly displayed the
   word “Eclipse.” 
I have read that the Eclipse was named after an 18th
   century race horse but 
wasn't there anyone at Mitsubishi who stood up
   at a planning meeting and 
said, “Listen, Numbnuts, one definition
   of 'Eclipse’ is 'totally or partially 
obscured?' ” That certainly describes
   the car I drove.

      Perhaps you are wondering if getting out of this vehicle was as
   difficult and 
humiliating as getting in. Not by a long shot. For one
   thing, there was no 
squatting. I would swivel my legs out of the car,
   put both feet on the concrete 
and then begin a series of rocking and
   pumping movements to lift myself from 
the seat. A “series” in this
   case defined as about 20 to 25 rocks and pumps.

      Once outside the car I walked in a hunched position for only about
   50 yards 
before regaining the normal gait of an aging man – crooked
   and wobbly. Who 
knows how Irene with her two metal knees got out?
   Hell, as far as I know she 
may still be in the damn thing, riding around
   with someone else.
  

         

 

 

               (Posted October 9, 2009)

 

 

 

 

 

Web Hosting Companies