Introducing the Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder! It was the car assigned to Well, this will be interesting you say. You then adjust the side mirrors. If I didn’t have a convertible at home I really like – a fairly roomy Oh the hell with it, I thought and off we drove. The beeping always Like most rentals, an owner’s manual was not to be found in the glove There was another curious characteristic of this car. When you turned Perhaps you are wondering if getting out of this vehicle was as Once outside the car I walked in a hunched position for only about (Posted October 9, 2009)
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 convertible. 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.
No one over the age of 15 months could fit there. Even if a small person
would agree to 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.
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.
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.
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.
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 finger 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.
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.
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.
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.