The nicer the car the worse the misery is in Michigan.
On my recent travels to West Virginia and New Hampshire, it was painfully evident how much curvier and graded the roads were. The plentiful potholes in Michigan were replaced with delightful nooks and crannies. Sadly, she stayed put at home in our garage and the rental squealed in pitiful under-steer.
The nicer the car the worse the misery is with rental cars.
It is not that Michigan is a bad state. Yes, the winters are miserable but the summers are toastily warm and it offers four seasons consistently. The state has work opportunities, oozes of the auto industry, comes with manageable affordability, some delightful campsites and allows a peaceful existence from nature’s monstrosities like drought, hurricanes and earthquakes. It just lacks mountains or the ability to build well asphalted roads with curvatures.
The nicer the car the worse the misery is with straightness.
It’s that Midwest flatness that drives the desperation to find roads that require me to steer actively. Close to where I live, within a 50 mile radius, there stands only one stretch of 13 miles that remotely stands a chance. It’s a loop that I keep going back to since my first new car purchase in 2006. It has become a litmus test for chassis feel and an increased heart rate. It’s surprisingly full of sharp turns, cambered roads and dips that can cause negative G forces. And it feels relentless, like a roller coaster, end to end.
turn good, straight bad
Of course, there is dumb luck involved. The road runs past a state park. This increases your chances of being busted by a cop who doesn’t expect a black Porsche 911 carving its way through to Hell, Michigan. If you do manage to evade the cop’s existence, you would need to contend with trucks with trailers hauling kayaks to paddle around. Even regular cars will test your patience as you watch them brake before and during the curve. A yellow recommended speed of 25 mph makes most drivers come to halt. The SUV’s almost start crawling backwards. And to increase your chances of finding an empty road, if you do head out there later in the evening or early in the morning, then you must be prepared for fat bikers in skinny tight apparel owning the road on their hideously slow carbon fire contraptions or dumb struck deer whose preferred suicide method is crumpling cars.
The nicer the car the worse the misery is with slow moving objects.
Admire, brood, admire, brood
It’s humbling the way the universe gives and takes. Maybe there is a person with the right car living on a smooth paved canyon road where it doesn’t snow at all? Or someone who lives on his private race track? But I doubt that it could be that perfect for anyone. It is a zero sum game and I am just glad that my equation is balanced with a Michigan constant. I do wish I had more but every time I look at her after a spirited drive, I feel grateful and regret complaining about anything all. She is just the most amazing piece of kit and I love her.
The nicer the car the worse it is to make your misery seem authentic.
