Spoiler alert

First of all, for some reasons probably having to do with personal vanity and self-image, it's important to me you know this is not the front spoiler on my car. The scrapes and scratches on my front spoiler are much more symmetrical and artistic in their own unique, random way.

Pardon my Seinfeld-ness, but (high-pitched, whiny, East-coast voice) what is it with designing front spoilers so low? Don't they have curbs where these cars come from?

I drive a Lexus ES 350. Despite the fact you see them coming and going it's a nice car, but really nothing more than a Camry dressed up for Saturday night. Still, I like the smooth ride, the burled walnut, the rear-window shade I've never used and the fact it came pre-wired for SiriusXM. Even though it'll never give me the performance thrill my old Audi A6 did, before it caught fire, as far as cars go I file it under things could be worse.

What I don't like about my Lexus is how low the front spoiler is. It scrapes on curbs. Parking space blocks. Driveways that aren't properly angled. Speedbumps. Dips in the road. In other words, almost anything a front spoiler would be in proximity to.

I have a body shop I go to that's inexpensive and does great work. And when I tell them it's out-of-pocket and not through my insurance company, they give me even more of a break. They're located senseless-murder-district adjacent, so the overhead is low (no pun intended) and they can offer great rates. Sadly, they know me there because I've had to have the front spoiler repainted three times since I've owned the car.

I suppose I could choose to not let it bother me, and just go about my day not thinking about it. But in my heart, like I know the sky is blue, every time I'm behind the wheel I can't stop thinking about the fact I'll scrape it again. Probably pulling out of the repair shop driveway.

The Lexus is the latest black car in a series of them I've owned. And the white scrapes, while unavoidable, aren't a good look. I can only take it for so long.

So I've been looking for something higher. A little more off the ground. Which puts me squarely in the crossover/SUV arena. To date I haven't found anything I like and that I can afford. That's mainly because I can't afford anything in life since we remodeled two bathrooms, our living room and gave the kitchen a complete makeover.

If I'd only put a V6 and a steering wheel next to the microwave I'd be set.

But I'm determined not to let it get me down. Ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you about my dogged persistence and laser-like focus when I set my mind to doing something.

Unless it's losing weight or vacuuming. Then, you know, screw it.

Anyway, I'll keep scouring AutoTrader and the OEM CPO sites (yeah, I work on car accounts) for something I can fall in love with and afford. Like my high school girlfriend.

Until I do, every time I hear the sound of my spoiler scraping the ground, I'll pretend it's my own personal reminder that the faster I can unload this thing, the sooner I won't have to hear that noise anymore.

Like my high school girlfriend.

Have you seen the trailer

I'm not a fan of camping. To me, roughing it is a three-star hotel without cable.

Many times in my life, some well-meaning friends (who apparently don't know me that well) have tried to con me into going on a camping trip with them. They immediately sense my resistance, and try to appeal to my more earthy side: call of the wild, at one with nature, back to the beginning and all that.

It never works. Ever.

It's not that I've lost the desire to sleep in the woods, use toilet paper I could sand my coffee table with and eat powdered filet mignon (Just add hot water and stir!), I never had it in the first place. I like my creature comforts.

Which is why it surprises me as much as you to hear myself say this, but, not that I was looking for it, I may have found a way to have my amenities and camp with them too.

The 2016 Airstream International Signature.

For only $64,048 I can be in the wild and the lap of luxury at the same time. Here's how Airstream describes this silver beauty on their website:

"With an interior designed by award-winning architect Christopher C. Deam, the International Signature is the definition of upscale. Light pours in through panoramic vista windows, reflecting off sleek polished surfaces. The result is an open environment that will take your breath away.

It’s style that sizzles, with Corian® galley tops, premium fabrics, rich modern colors, and plush Ultraleather™ seating. Signature design meets the iconic Airstream line."

I don't know what Corian galley tops are, but I like them already.

Of course, if I picked up one of these babies I'd have to get a Ford 350 to haul it around to campsites. And when I'm not using it out on the road, it'd just be sitting in my driveway, blocking my asshole neighbor's kitchen window and pissing them off.

Now that I think about it, my driveway is a perfectly good place to camp out.

Candid camera

A lost episode of COPS? An avant-garde student film? Nope. What your looking at is my driveway, as seen from one of our closed circuit security cameras.

You might be wondering why we've taken the extreme step of installing a security system at our house, especially since the TP'ing ended years ago.

Here's the story.

A few years ago, we started noticing some strange characters coming and going from a house across the street and four down from us. Which was strange because, as far as we could tell, the people who lived there looked like fine, upstanding citizens, perhaps public servants or business professionals.

I'm just funnin' ya. They were strung out meth tweakers. People who visited the house looked like the cast of Oz, without the warmth.

One day, my wife and daughter were driving home and saw one of the tweakers walking down our driveway. They drove slowly and watched him walk back to his house, then they called the police.

Initially the police didn't want to come out to warn the guy about trespassing, but once they did they realized they were dealing with some very bad people. They came back to our house, and let my wife know they had a very long rap sheet that included drug dealing and firearms charges. They also told us to call them anytime if we noticed anything odd going on over there.

The thing is, there was always something odd going on. And as a result, the cops were at the house about twice a week, at all times of the day and night, for over a year. Sometimes it was one police car, and other times it was four or five screaming up to the house, guns drawn. It was very entertaining, and we could almost set our clocks by it.

The house was owned by a sleazy lawyer. We figured out the deal was he got them out of jail when they got busted, and he got a cut of their drug money.

By the way, I forgot to mention that neither our house or our neighbor's house (our former great neighbor and friend Sebastian - come back Sebastian!) was broken into when he was coming out our driveway. We figured the tweaker was probably window shopping both houses, but then heard Max - the world's greatest German Shepherd - start barking up a storm and high-tailed it out of there.

Right after the driveway incident, we got the closed circuit camera system for the house. We have several cameras covering the whole property, and can tune in and watch the show no matter where we are. We have a lot of footage of the FedEx guy delivering packages from Amazon, but so far no more meth heads.

Eventually, the police department called to tell us the sleazy lawyer couldn't afford the house anymore and had decided to sell it. Which, thankfully, turned out to be true.

Now, a nice family with two young kids live there. They've been renovating the house since they moved in over a year ago, and it's looking good. I'm not sure if the renovations included an exorcism, but I think it's worth considering.

As for the closed circuit camera system, together with Max and our alarm system it brings us a great deal of peace of mind.

I just have to remember not to take out the trash in my underwear.

That's the ticket

Much to the dismay of both my kids, we weren't the parents that ran out and bought them cars when they got their license. They've had to make do with sharing our cars when they're available - which we do our best to see that they are.

But a few weeks ago, that changed. The wife had been driving a sixteen-year old Land Cruiser, and was next in line for a new car. So she got one.

Not new new. A certified pre-owned, 2012 model with considerably less mileage (19,400) than her current wheels (245,000). We hang onto cars for a long time.

So now, instead of moving two cars in and out of our driveway, we have three to juggle. Which requires considerably more planning than two. It's like one point higher on the Richter scale is a thousand times more powerful quake.

Alright, we know analogies aren't my strong point, but you see where I'm going.

The daily ritual now is who's leaving first, who's coming back with a car at what time and who drives which car. The only thing we know for sure is no one but the wife drives the wife's new car, although recently there's even been some leniency with that rule.

The problem is there are three cars and four drivers. But that'll change in August when young Mr. Spielberg goes off to film school in the blue dot on the great red state of Texas. Needless to say, his sister is quite excited thinking she'll have a car any old time she wants one after he leaves. We won't spoil her little fantasy just yet.

Besides driveway parking, the other situation exponentially worse with the addition of a third car is insurance. We were already paying an arm and a leg to insure everyone. Now the premium has increased to a small fortune. And if one of the teenagers happen to get a ticket, we've been told it gets jacked up to a king's ransom.

Anyway, we'll continue to plan accordingly when it comes to jockeying the cars in the driveway, even if we have to invest in new equipment to do it.

I don't mind. I look pretty good in those little red jackets.