The dealer hands me the keys with a big grin. He's probably just earned himself a 10,000 dollar commission on a new Porsche 911 Carrera 4S Cabriolet Convertible, so of course he's smiling.

I carry my folder with the papers under one arm and take the keys. He extends his hand to close the transaction and am forced to put the key in my blazers inside pocket to shake.

"Have fun!"

Those words make the purchase of such a vehicle seem irresponsible and almost adolescent. And for a moment I get a twinge of guilt over the purchase. Like a kid who can never have enough Matchbox cars, the acquisition is obviously driven by compulsion rather than necessity. But with scads of money from loyally supporting the Bush family, what's one going to do? One has to find creative ways to spend some of it.

I approach the car from the rear. An attendant has given it a fresh wash and detailing before delivery. The blinding Alpine White paint glows in the desert sun and makes the red taillights stand out crisply in contrast. In chrome, Carrera 4S is written in a stylized script and looks vaguely like Carrera ASS because the 4 is malformed and the S is larger and underscores the 4. I suspect the designers were having a bit of fun with the script.

I climb in and place the key in the ignition which is on the dash to the left of the steering wheel. The new car smell and fresh leather merge to create an aromatic ambrosia for the nostrils. The distinctive Porsche engine sound comes to life. The gauges are orange on white and are a cool dual analog/digital set up - a nice touch for those who can't make up their mind as to which sort of gauges they prefer. The tachometer is in the center circle and the 200 mph speedometer is in a slightly smaller circle to the left. Why the speed is relegated to secondary importance is somewhat strange, but the tachometer has the speed displayed digitally at the bottom as if to make up for this anomaly.

The 6 speed manual transmission requires a firm hand and the clutch engages with teutonic precision. I turn on the radio and find the selection control, and realize there is a key pad to the left of the screen which allows you to punch in the station you want. I punch in a station, turn up the volume and punch the throttle. The all wheel drive keeps the tires from peeling and instead instant traction is the response.

I turn out onto the highway. The desert sun is milder and the wind tugs at my hair gently as I cruise through light Sunday traffic. When I reach a nice stretch of open highway where a 180 degree panorama of desert sand, asphalt and blue sky surround me.

I open her up a bit...gently...steadily...I feel her out and explore her limits so there will be no surprises. The grip is incredible. There is no looseness to input at the helm, merely compliance. I gaze at the dash quickly and I have to remember to look a bit to the left for the speed. 100. I ease out. Too much speed too soon is never a good idea and, besides, it's against the law. There are no curves to speak of out here. It's all flat and the roads are a grid affair.

Then without warning I hear a screaming sound. An unhealthy grinding comes next and I feel a strange vibration behind my seat. I down shift, pull over to the side of the highway and turn off the car. Smoke is emerging from the 5 vent grills which vent the engine bonnet. I pop the bonnet and gaze at the smoke pungently pouring forth.

My cellphone is on the passenger seat and I retrieve it. I dig out my papers find the dealers telephone number and call. I complain, but naturally, in a polite manner. A tow is on the way.

I watch as the car is hoisted onto a flatbed. I climb in alongside the driver who has been instructed to drop me off at my home before bringing the car back to the dealer for repairs. The driver is smiling slightly like he may be secretly enjoying my misfortune.

"That's a spankin' new one aint it?"

"Yeah just delivered an hour and a half ago."

"Now that's a crime. Still under warranty I'm sure, but man what a bummer. They should give you another"

"Yeah."

Hours pass and my cell rings. It's the repais shop at the dealership.

"In all my years, I've never seen anything like this from a new car."

"So what's wrong with it?"

"The cylinder head deformed and basically had a meltdown."

"Meltdown?"

"Yeah, the engine will need a total rebuild. The engine is still under warranty but there may be a just a few expenses not covered, coolant, oil and the like."

"I don't want a new $119,000 car with a rebuilt engine. I want a new car with a new engine."

"Yeah, I see where you're coming from. You'll have to take it up with the owner and see what can be done."

"When's the owner in?"

"Oh, he comes in on Fridays and Saturdays usually. Why don't you come in Friday morning and take it up with him."

I hang up and think of my first impression of the chrome script. Ass now seems even more poignant, and I realise the designers were in on the joke and were simultaneously labeling and warning potential owners.

.

.

.

.

With the meltdown which seems to be occurring here on the Zone, it seemed an appropriate time for this little piece. ;-)