* * *  COUNTDOWN:  7 DAYS TO LA/XC-3  * * *

Just about a month ago, Ricky took it upon himself to announce in his Roof Rack Report that the Acura MDX, veteran of LA/XC-1 & 2, had been retired, and this year we’d be cruising in luxury in a new Audi Q5.  (See “The New Official Vehicle of LA/XC-3”)  Ricky had already test-snored in the cushy leather shotgun seat and found it to his liking, but he could tell that I wasn’t all that comfortable in the driver’s seat, and he made a bunch of snide remarks about how I had no idea what I was seeing when I used the back-up mirror, that I couldn’t figure out the moon roof, and that I was absolutely clueless when it came to both the ultra-sophisticated audio and nav systems.  “This car is way, way too complicated for our guy,” my dog concluded.

Much as it pains me to admit it, Ricky was right.  The “amazingly intuitive” technology had me totally paralyzed.  I was actually afraid to touch anything on the dash.  It’s not that I could never learn it.  But I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have it down by September 5, our projected start date.  And I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t weighing on me.

Two weeks later, I owned up to another concern.  In my August 16 post, I admitted that my annual September cross-country road trip had become less about Robby-gets-to-see-his-beloved-dog and more about Beagle Man’s Excellent Adventure.  The fact that Robby was no longer begging me to make the trip made me feel a little guilty and indulgent.

And then, riding over the hill to the rescue (on both counts) . . . Robby’s ancient Pathfinder!

Okay, so this year we’d agreed Robby could have his car on campus, largely because of an internship he has that involves a commute.  (Also, because I always give him whatever he asks for.)  Carol had arranged two months ago for a transport company to deliver the Pathfinder to L.A., but they finked out at the last minute.  Ditto the second outfit she hired.  We were up the creek.

“Hey,” she said to me brightly, “maybe you could drive Robby’s Pathfinder to L.A.?”

And with that suggestion, I was off the hook.  I didn’t pump my fist and shout, “Yes!”  I was smart enough to complain a little about not using the brand-new luxury car we’d leased largely for this purpose, and yada yada yada.  But inside, my heart leapt.

True, I wouldn’t be able to program my 1,847 favorite radio stations in the Pathfinder’s memory, as I could in the Audi.  (I should say, as one could in the Audi.)  And I’d have to do without voice-activated nav.  And somehow I’d need to get by without that back-up camera that could spot a tree within 500 yards of my rear bumper.  But that 2001 Pathfinder is no slouch when it comes to features.  It has a clock that you can adjust by hitting the “hours” button and then the “minutes” button.  And a hatch that you can close by reaching up and closing it.  It even has an actual key.

And just as important:  Robby needs his Pathfinder.  We need someone to drive it across the country.  Now I’m not just indulging myself.  Now I’m coming through in the clutch for my son.  LA/XC-3 is relevant again.

Two-four-six-eight!  Who do we appreciate?  Pathfinder!  Pathfinder!  Yea, Pathfinder!

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