Rocinante is in for a little unscheduled maintenance (Something about a cataclysmic conversion. I dunno.) and I am driving a Chevy Impala. Given that the last Chevy Impala I drove was roughly the size and shape of the USS Eisenhower, this car has been quite a surprise.

First of all, it doesn’t feel like it is moving. I’m sure that car types have fancy terms for this, but at 80, it feels like my Jeep at about 45, and at 45, it feels like it’s going about 10. (That’s mph, for you metric folks. I think you’re supposed to double it and add 30, or something.) Now, I presume that folks that like this sort of thing say that that’s a desired feature, but when I’m cruising along at 45, and suddenly realize that, in fact, I’m going 80, that’s a bit alarming. I like to know I’m moving.

Secondly, I was very impressed with the Jeep dealer service place. They looked up my VIN, and knew that I was under warranty. That, combined with the amazing ability to diagnose the problem by listening to it, and I left there knowing that I would not have to pay anything for the service.

Next, they called Enterprise car rental, and when I got there, I discovered that the dealership was paying for my rental, too, which I had not realized at all. However, I had to pay tax. So I’ll end up paying $1.85 to get my cats converted, which seems like a pretty good bargain to me.

Oh, yeah, the stereo. It turns the volume up the faster you go. Which is strange, since the ambient noise level does not increase much. And, considering that loud music makes me drive faster anyway, this is a feedback cycle that is moderately dangerous if you’re not aware that it is happening. But, fortunately, nobody died.