Tuesday, Aug. 12, 2003: Despite a few nits to pick, a Mercedes-Benz S-Class is tough to part with. And it's a tough act to follow. The next vehicle a driver encounters is likely to pale in comparison. Ah, but what was that attractive crossover vehicle pulling into the Sun parking lot? The one with the big grille.

So it was that a Chrysler Pacifica, a new model for the troubled automaker, took its place behind the S500. I took the keys and did a quick walkaround. Hmmm. Looks good. Proper bar-shaped door handles. Easy entry. A power rear door operated from the remote control on the key.

I bid the Mercedes good-bye, thankful to have avoided an accident in that most expensive of cars. I always feel that way. Guess I remember my insurance agent scolding me once with the remark, "You don't have enough coverage to be involved in an accident with a Mercedes-Benz."

Don't know why I didn't dismiss him on the spot.

Wednesday, Aug. 13, 2003: The second day of testing any car usually yields revelations about the interior. The exterior appearance is accepted and attention turns to comfort details. That's when I really discovered the beauty of the navigation system in this Pacifica.

It doesn't require a driver to divert eyes from the road for moments staring off to the right and down, where most of the too-small screens with their maps are located. And it doesn't require a driver to squint into glare for screens that pop up out of the dashboard. This one is perfect. Just perfect.

Chrysler located the map screen in the middle of the speedometer in the middle of the instrument cluster.

Deeply shaded, the map has outstanding contrast day or night. The smallish screen is closer and thus not difficult to read. And the voice of Buffy can be heard directing me to my destinations.

Man, I like this.

I did not read the owner's manual -- on purpose 'cause these ought to be intuitive -- and quickly figured out how to enter an address. In fact, this was the most intuitive system I've yet encountered. I did not make even one misstep with my first address entry. Bing, the system chimed, and I was off.

Buffy, my name for the synthetic voice used in most of these systems, did not know little-travelled and faster back roads in my area. Maybe I shouldn't expect distant mapmakers to know local secrets, but the fact is that Buffy directed me accurately but her routing left something to be desired. She always picked the biggest roads, for one thing, thinking they were faster. Wrong, Buffy. They are heavily travelled, with frequent stoplights. Not desirable.

I will say this. She did help me find a near-impossible house deep into a bunch of subdivision curves. On my own, I'd still be circling.

But take another look at the photo above. Note that this speedometer registers 160 mph! This thing wouldn't do 160 with Dale Earnhardt Jr. pulling it behind his Bud car. And if it did, God help the driver behind the steering wheel -- 'cause it's tall and gangly and gets blown around in crosswinds and isn't designed to be a handler and ...

Dumb.

But a great nav screen.

Thursday, Aug. 14, 2003: The drive to work each day has been pleasant. The driver of a Pacifica has a commanding view of the road ahead. It's makes you feel safe. And I enjoyed the folks who turned their heads as they passed, slowing up to figure out what this new thing was, all festooned with antique Chrysler emblems.

At stoplights, the front-drive Pacifica will happily chirp its tires under abrupt acceleration. Brakes seem fine and the automatic transmission is smooth.

I pulled into the Sun parking lot and arriving at work behind me was a photographer. Driving a new Nissan Murano.

Now, I've had a Murano (that's it in the photo here) and didn't get a review done. But I loved it. Loved the variable-speed transmission, the comfort and utility of it, and .. the looks. It looks like the future. It looks like what we were promised vehicles would look like, back when I was a kid. Vintage Japanese movies have vehicles that look like the Murano.

And the Pacifica looks kinda like a Murano .. only not as new, not as futuristic.

Sarah departed her Murano and I looked at the two side-by-side in the parking lot. The Murano just plain looks better, to my eyes. But the Pacifica doesn't have those huge blind spots to the rear the way the Murano does. And the Pacifica is demonstrably bigger. In many respects, they are similar -- and so are their $35,000 price tags when fully equipped. But each has something going for it. If you get stuck in choosing between these two crossover vehicles, drive each and see which feels best. You won't go wrong with either.

After work, wife and I decided to eat out. She works, too, and fixing supper is not a favorite chore for either of us. We try not to spend a fortune on food, but enjoy a variety of restaurants. After the meal, I cranked up the Pacifica and headed for the parking lot exit. As I pulled onto a busy six-lane road, the engine sputtered and stumbled.

I let off on the gas a second. Traffic was closing behind me. I pressed hard on the accelerator. And the engine gasped and seemed to die. I let off on the accelerator and the Pacifica inched forward, wheezing and coughing and spitting.

My wife turned pale. "What's the matter?"

"No idea," I said.

Right then, a bold orange engine block light turned on in the middle of the instrument cluster.

Hugging the right lane, we moved slowly along the busy highway and cars sped past.

"I'll try to get home," I said.

I managed to cross the lanes and .. the stoplight turned red just as I approached for a left turn toward home. Ooooooo.

I moved the shifter into neutral and blipped the accelerator. Brrrroooom, spit, brooom, sputter, broooom, gassssssp.

After 20 minutes or so, the left-turn arrow turned green. Cars were behind me. Ooooo. I eased on the power and the Pacifica sputtered forward. Prayer helped it cross the three lanes of revving traffic waiting like bulls in chutes to launch. I hugged the right lane all the way home.

"I'll call first thing in the morning," I said.

Friday, Aug. 15, 2003: It doesn't help to know that Florida will be crossed by a tropical wave today. The wave is destined to become Erika, but we have no way of knowing how much additioned rain our flooded area will receive. I wake up early, from a restless night of off-and-on sleep.

I decide to test the Pacifica. Frankly, I have no desire for my wife to take me to work in her minivan. No thanks. I'm hoping the Pacifica can cough the six miles to the office. I crank it up.

It doesn't cough.

The orange engine light is still on, but no sputtering comes from the engine.

I drove around the block. All seemed well. Sort of. The engine wasn't terribly smooth even before the light came on last night. It bucks a bit. Was doing that this morning. But no sputtering. I decided to risk the trip to work.

From the office, I called my delivery contact, who promised to call Chrysler engineering immediately.

I set about writing about rainfall totals, etc.

In mid-afternoon, the delivery contact called back.

"It was probably air in the line," I'm told. "Or a bad sensor. You're driving a prototype, not a production model."

"Is it okay to keep driving it with the light on?"

"Yes, unless the light starts flashing."

"Flashing? What then?"

"Head for a dealership."

I decide to drive as little as possible. In fact, I don't drive it at all today, except to and from work. The rain falls and I content myself on the telephone with machine snack foods for energy.

The trip home is uneventful. No sputtering, but an orange engine light -- solid or blinking -- is disconcerting. It seems to get bigger as I look at it.

Saturday, Aug. 16, 2003: Another work day.

It's not until after work, on the drive home, that I notice something wonderful. The orange engine light isn't on anymore!

Now, honestly, I figured it was like all those warning lights I've encountered in the past. Once one comes on, it scares you into making a trip to the dealership, where someone will turn it off for $120 and tell you there was a faulty sensor. Didn't figure it would go out by itself. Maybe it concluded I'm stubborn. Maybe turning off was a malfunction.

Whatever, I was happy it was off.

Tomorrow, my wife and I would spend another weekend day helping son move from apartment to house. I intended to take the Pacifica on an extended interstate highway trip. I needed it to be perfect. I needed to restore confidence I'd lost earlier in the week.

Sunday, Aug. 17, 2003: Ah, day off. Time to relax. Time to .. lift and load and move.

I cranked up the Pacifica, glanced at the nav map where I'd punched in my son's address earlier and ...

An orange light was on.

This one looked like a "U" with an exclamation point in it.

It wasn't a "U".

To the left of it were some green lights telling me "1 tire low pressure."

A FLAT TIRE! Nononononononononno.

I got out and looked at the front tires. They were okay. I looked at the rear tires. They looked okay, too.

I think the fact that I had parked on the edge of the driveway might have had something to do with this. The tires get all squashed by the concrete ridge and maybe that squashing messed up a sensor that I didn't even know they had. Whatever, they didn't look low -- and I intended to drive this baby 120 miles.

I also figured that once the Pacifica got up to speed, the air inside the tires would heat up, expand and increase the pressure. The light would go out then.

Wrong.

I decided not tell my wife about this.

I had told her gleefully how the engine block light had, poof, gone out. Why make her fret again?

But I sweated. I couldn't find a nail in a tire, but something had triggered the light and that something might get worse in the middle of nowhere.

My wife looked so relaxed in the leather passenger seat. It's really quite a nice interior. Very comfortable. But not comforting when the warning lights go haywire.

We got some of the move done and the light never went off.

I think the Pacifica could be a home run for Chrysler, but all it was throwing me was a succession of curves.

Monday, Aug. 18, 2003: I wake up with a dull headache that will ruin half the day. No, I don't think it was the Pacifica's fault. I'm just working too hard. Hours too long. I decide to do a video green screen report and devote the day to the task. I do not drive the Pacifica. I crank it up, yes, and the tire light is on. The tires look okay.

I decide I don't like the key setup, with remote buttons on the base. I like the power rear door button, but I keep pressing the panic button when I'm just shutting off the ignition. Besides, the key is so big it pokes holes in pants pockets. Oh, well.

A new car comes tomorrow.

Can't wait.

Home, James