"Au^tomobiloj de mia vivo"

This page is dedicated to all of my friends who have risked their lives driving with me over the years. Sophomore year of high school, I had a huge crush on Dawn Hardy. She took her driving test the same day I did. She passed, I failed. So went all hope of a Keith-Hardy connection. Ah, Dawn, what could've been.

First, you will notice that my first two vehicles are missing. There are two reasons for this:

1. There were very few pictures taken of these two pricks of misery
2. What pictures there were have mercifully been lost

I've always been a car nut. As a little kid, I had a world class collection of matchbox cars... so I thought. My neighbors, the Bilodeaus, had mamouth matchbox collections. Nonetheless, I was a car addict. I would have been a world-class motorhead, except for genetics working against me. You see, my father once scored a 1-percentile on a shop test. The teacher--this was in the late 50's mind you--told him, "Son, there are girls that scored better on this exam than you." Sadly, that was my genetic lot in life. So I settled for a "market" knowledge. I used to sit on the steps of my grandmother's cottage with my cousins Tina, Denise, and Robin (though Robin doesn't remember) and identify the cars by make, model and year as they drove by. I was four.

My parents, being of modest means, drove Beetles. My Uncle Wayne had owned Vets and Novas, but by that point, also drove a Beetle. He wasn't always a financial wiz. As time went on, I inevitably bought my first car, much to the chagrin of my parents. I was all set to buy a 1973 Chevrolet Caprice, 350-small block, metallic green, for $700. For some reason, I changed my mind and ended up with a 1978 Ford Fiesta for the same price. Despite my best efforts, it never left the driveway under it's own power. In the end, I sold it for a loss of $500.

Though technically not my car, rather belonging to my parents, the 1983 Rabbit GTI was the car that I was most associated with in High School. A 1.8-litre power plant zipped this little pocket rocket passed many a stronger car. 9 days after getting my license (on the second try) I had this mishap while running an errand for my mother.

A 78-year old woman driving a 1978 Camaro pulled out in front of me at a stop light. She did everything right for a right-turn-on-red except look for oncoming traffic, which is how she met me.

The reason I gave up on the Fiesta is Paul Steer, whom I'd known for nearly 10 years, sold me a 1973 VW Beetle for $250. It had 1,000 miles on a rebuilt engine. It met it's thankful end when I was joy-riding with Andy "Strap" Spencer, and Marc Auclair one night. We heard a metalic, spring-like noise as we were leaving Paradise Trailer Park. We thought nothing of it. Mistake. As we headed into town, the back of the car dropped on the driver's side. I couldn't figure out what the hell had happened... till I saw the wheel, complete with break drum, roll past us, taking the fork in the road... we weren't. Having no way to stop the vehicle, I found some soft-looking trees, thus was the end of the Beetle.

In a moment of desperation, needing to pay the bank the remainder of the Beetle loan (a sad youthful existence), Beranger Volkswagen offered to pay off my loan on the car, and give me $495 trade-in. This was my introduction to how they pork you when you buy a car. I bought a 1985 Plymouth Horizon, with a 1.6-litre Peugot motor. It was metalic blue, like 95% of all Horizons/Omnis. I hated the color, but it remains one of the more comfortable cars I've ever owned. The car is pictured at the right. I loved the damned thing the way only a teen-aged boy can love a car. Looking back, the girl is the best thing in this picture. ;)

It took me a year to kill this car. It had 16,831 miles on it when I bought it, 52,835 when I traded it in, limping. Needless to say, when you take out a 4-year loan, and trade up after one year, you take a serious bath.

I was all set to purchase a white 1987 VW Jetta GL, for about $13,000. However, I was a little gunshy about the $330 payment, particularly since I was beginning my senior year of high school. A trip to Bill Screwme [Dube] Toyota landed me a sales conference with a woman, I believe her name was Terry, who was in her late 20's and the personification of sex. Needless to say, I was buying. My friend Jake and someone else were with me and when she came out, I made some typical high school-guy comment to the effect of, "Hmmm, maybe I'll see if I can take her for a test drive and get a discount.

I'll skip the gory details of my Bill Dube experience. Suffice it to be said, I told the man himself, "I promise you, I'll never do business with you again." And I haven't. The truck was beautiful when we looked at it, complete with a Brahma fiberglass cap and a chrome bumper. However, given my age and lack of funds, life was not good to this wonderful vehicle. In the background, you can see my Uncle's 1982 Rabbit Diesel. Both cars are still on the road.

I intended to keep the truck about a year, then upgrade to a 4x4 when I graduated. Being an idiot, I didn't realize the hole I was digging for myself. In a rare example of life being fair, I was unable to upgrade and wound up keeping the truck through my graduation from UNH in 1995.

The poor truck saw 11 accidents, a grand sum of 1 of which were deemed my fault. I was hit and run twice. Believe me, if I ever find the SOB in the 1974 Torino that wiped me out on Route 16, I'll skin his firstborn. I'd been told to keep paint on a car, no matter what, or it'll rot right out. My paint situation was dire, unfortunately, so were my finances. I bought a can of flat black house paint and a brush and headed for the beach where I delivered this stellar paint job in September, 1994.

During my political student days, I had a variety of homemade bumper stickers on this truck. In the back window of the cap I bought for $35, a few of the better ones are shown in this picture to the left.

Note: After totalling the truck in an hellacious winter accident in December, 1989, I bought a 1978 Chrysler Lebaron for $125. The seller, Scott Sherman, is now my auto insurance agent.

In 1994, I transferred to UNH for the love of the wrong woman. Within 6 months, she left me. Needing love and support, I borrowed money against my life insurance and turned to a convertible.

Skip Millbury of Skip's Bug Barn in Rochester had just gone through something similar. He was left with this car, which he had been restoring for his now-estranged wife. Seeing my suffering, he let me have it at a substantial profit for $4200. He knew love when he saw it.

Surprisingly, this vehicle was not the chick magnet it should have been. I'm sure the driver had much to do with that. The floor soon fell out and I had a friend install a new one. This car was cursed by the fury of a woman scorned, but love is blind, so I held on.

In the end, I passed her on to a midlife mother from New Durham for a loss at $2900. I couldn't figure out why I'd gotten so few calls on her. Despite people stopping by the cottage where she was parked to tell me that the number on the for sale sign was disconnected, it never sunk in that I had my old number in the window. Such is the life of a mid-20's vagabond.

Upon graduating from UNH in 1995, and finally meeting the right woman, I decided to venture to Pittsburgh, PA. Needless to say, the truck was not going to take me there. So, I purchased my father's 1989 VW Fox. The fox at a 1.8-litre engine, but had about half the umph of the GTI. In 1999, my wife-to-be purchased a 1991 Honda from a friend. To the right are both cars parked outside our chalet in Kittery.

Finally, when both cars died within a week of one another in June, 2001, I got my 7-year old wish: A Jeep Wrangler. I'm shown here doing my JC Penney catalogue pose, which I stole from Mark Nicholson.

4.0-litre engine, 4x4, 5-speed and a convertible to boot. I'm in love again.

Of course, as life would have it, two adults, one car... it just doesn't work. So we've added the Grandma Grocery Go-Getter, a 1994 Mercury Cougar. Powered by a 4.6-litre V-8, power everything, cruise, it's a cream puff. Alas, the cream puff was not designed for travel on a dirt road, so it has been given to Law's stepfather. Proceed on to see it's replacement.

Here is an update of the Jeep, now 18 months old, and what it looks like during the aftermath of a nice New England Nor'easter. No. The Grader in the background is NOT mine.

And what Maine driveway would be complete without a plow truck?!?!?!

This beast is a 1988 Ford F-150 with the famed 4.9L straight 6 (the slant 6 of its generation). It features a 7.5-foot Fisher plow and a 4-speed manual transmission... enough to make ANY plow day an adventure. I'm the third owner and this hog has 175,860 miles. This was a reward for the sale of my old house. After shoveling the new place out to the tune of 18" of snow, I said, "Eff this! We're gettin' a plow truck!!!" UPDATE: We've since added a Fisher Minute Mount © to the Jeep and unloaded the beast. I had all sorts of problems with the plow, and in the end, just moved it to get it out of the driveway.

This is the latest (and hopefully last for a few years) update to the page. Law picked the color, she didn't want matching colored cars again. Her ride, her choice.

It's a 2000 Jeep Cherokee we picked up from Jolly John (and we're happy!) with 33K miles. It has the same 4.0L that's in the Wrangler, but everything else about it is geared more towards being a passenger car. It's more of a highway beast than on offroader. We actually recommend going to Jolly, ask for Gerry (aka Smokey). We had a great experience.

Our choices were red, green, blue, white or black. She liked the red. To quote Johnnie, one of my groomsmen, upon seeing the tuxedo vests (green tint for the groomsmen, red for the groom): "Gonna look like a damn Christmas tree." Isn't this just about a Maine postcard?

The Cherokee would eventually develop some rather nasty electrical concerns. At the same time, gas propelled to nearly $4/gallon, so we opted to replace her with something a bit more fuel efficient. M'lady was shrewd, opting for a purple tit-holster on negotiation day. Soon a 2008 Nissan Altima entered our lives and we began saving a tremendous amount on fuel expenses! That was in June of 2008; I'm updating this in February of 2016, and we still have it. 120,000 miles later, it's proving to be a great purchase.

A little after that, I decided I wanted to get the plow off the Jeep in hopes of prolonging its existence. I also wanted an SUV for things like moving band equipment, kidnapping friends for their bachelor party -- that sort of thing. I was able to find a well kept, very high mileage Ford Expedition. Alas, as it's a Ford, it's sporadic use was costly and I sold it. The long story gets longer as there were complications involved in the payment resulting in my basically eating $1300 of the cost. The idiot who stiffed me is currently protected by Chapter 7 bankruptcy filing at the moment. Hopefully, the universe will see that some grand evil befalls him. It was a nice truck.

Since I lost my plow with the sale of the Expedition, I had to get a plow truck when we moved. I still had need of a band wagon, so I opted for a Nissan Titan Crew Cab. It's a pig, and the V-plow just makes it even more so. Let's not talk about the gas mileage. It's been a great truck and it was fortunate that we bought it as the Jeep began to develop the issues an older Jeep develops. I parted with the Jeep in the fall of 2013, and it broke my heart to do so. I didn't think anything could remove that pain.

I was mistaken. There was a search and I knew I wanted a car, not a truck, not a Jeep. I had narrowed the search to either a 350Z or a T-Bird. I test-drove both. I loved the T-Bird, I hated the Z. The dealership with the Z tried to convince me to drive some other cars, and as it was an uneventful Saturday, I gave in. I drove a Lexus (nice car, I'd never buy it), a Miata, a few others (honestly can't remember them all). Finally, this black Vette caught my eye. I joked about the prohibitive cost of such a car. I was informed it was about the same price as the Z. I was also told I'd hate it. "So, make me hate it. Put a plate on it." They did, and I. Was. Hooked. We tested a red one locally and might have bought it, but the sales manager was a complete douche. Found this one online and bought it over the interwebs (yes, terrifying). Oh. My. Gawd.

If you know nothing about me, you know I have developed a complete and utter hatred of winter. While on the way to pick up the plow after it's seasonal service ($350), I made an off-handed comment to the missus: "If anything happened to the truck, I'd be willing to consider another Jeep." She replied that she wasn't sure we were really saving money, and by the time we had gone about a mile, we had determined that I would keep my eye open. Well, the more information I received about the condition of the plow and the required maintenance (not bad, just a LOT of work!), I had pretty much talked myself into looking immediately. I had contacted a dealership on Long Island about a Rubicon (never did hear back), but before the night was over, I saw a dealer-built Golden Eagle. I decided I'd drive down and check it out the next day. I decided to leave the truck home just to force myself to wait. By the time I left, I was driving the truck. Later that day, we owned The Golden Eagle.