A year ago I would have testified, “Cars with standard features are the fucking greatest.” Since then, I've adopted the comfort-is-secondary viewpoint, coincidentally right around the time my mechanic told me it would cost $700 to repair my broken air conditioner.

To further my cause, the tape deck also decided to go on strike, which provides me with two options; listen to the radio or give my undivided attention to the road. Naturally, I choose the one that endangers lives.

Listening to the radio with the windows down is like trying to watch sign language at a football stadium. “Penalty Who? The War of Eighteen-What?” It means not hearing the name of the band that you've been waiting for the DJ to say because a motorcycle passed. Or ironically, because a car with a louder radio has its windows down. Heaven forbid if an ambulance should approach. Instinct tells you to roll up the glass like it's some sort of sound barrier, but no amount of song audibility can compete against not having ball sweat.