Doing the numbers on my RAV4

The economics of automobiles have never made any sense to me. Perhaps that’s because they aren’t meant to. Car buying and car ownership aren't rational decisions.

Today I spent $466 to have my 1999 RAV4’s shocks replaced (the thing rode like a buckboard) and the power steering fluid flushed and replaced. Likewise the brake fluid.

The mechanic also checked out the rest of the Blue-Green RAV. It generally got a good bill of health.

I reckon the tab was approximately 10 percent of the value of the little SUV, which has 86,500 miles on it. I don’t drive it all that much, but when I do, it reliably gets me from A to B, Z as the case may be.

Recently, for reasons that are hard to defend, I delved into what it would cost to buy a listed 2003 Prius. The answer was $8,500 plus the hassle of selling the RAV with its old shocks. With new shocks and the other work, I would have been out $9,000 before selling the RAV, which would likely have gone for $4,500.

So total out of pocket for a Prius after RAV sale would have been $4,500, more or less. Assuming, that is, there was nothing wrong with the Prius. Consumer Reports puts a big bad black dot next to “electrical” on 2003 Priuses. The owner I talked to on the phone said there was no problem with his car, but who wants the worry?

Then there’s the “little white van” factor.

I’m a fan of the "No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency of Botswana" series by Alexander McCall Smith. The hero of the books is Precious Ramotswe, a “traditionally build” lady detective in Botswana. She adores her “little white van,” which always seems to be on its last rims. Ramotswe’s husband, J.L.B. Matekoni, happens to be a well-respected mechanic, and he knows the van's useful life is near its end.

In the series' most recent book, “Tea Time for the Traditionally Built,” the van finally becomes “late” as they say of the deceased in Botswana. The good news is that the story doesn’t end there. Little white vans, it seems, get second chances.

I’ve become a bit like Mma Ramotswe when it comes to my RAV4. What price reliable conveyance? What price the miles we've traveled together. The bonds we've forged? Never mind sex appeal, graceful lines and on-board gadgetry. We're talking loyalty here.

All things considered, $466 was cheap at the price.

What every kitchen appliance needs — a garage door opener

For some reason I’m seeing quite a few stories about “Dream Kitchens.”

This month’s Consumer Reports, for example, is devoted to the subject. The cover reads “Your dream kitchen for less.” It has articles on floors, cabinets and counters. On dishwashers, refrigerators and even appliance stores.

I have no idea who dreams about kitchens? Sleepwalkers who end up in their kitchens perhaps. Or people who have given up on dreams of peace, harmony and $3-a-gallon gas.

And why kitchens, of all rooms? Why don’t they have fantasies about “dream closets” or “dream toilets” or “dream bedrooms”?

Sometimes after large parties, I am left with a “nightmare kitchen,” which I wish were a dream. But that’s another story.

Meanwhile, a significant segment of society seems to have this thing about kitchens.

I got my first inkling of weird kitchen fantasies a few years ago when I heard reference made to “appliance garages.” Apparently dream kitchens have so many appliances that they must be stored in mini, countertop garages.

It’s a fascinating concept and tonight for some reason (no, drugs weren’t involved) it occurred to me that a small fortune might be made creating appliance-garage door openers.

Sitting on the patio while we ate enchiladas, my wife indulged my appliance-garage door opener concept. Of course, I offered, the door opener would have to have a remote, like a real garage. Like our own two-car garage, in fact.

Some kitchen dreamers might even want an appliance garage door opener built into their REAL garage door opener. As they drive up at the end of a day’s labors, they could open BOTH garages simultaneously. Entering the dream kitchen, the would-be cook would find the appliances at the ready to slice, dice, whip, blend and puree.

But why stop there? As nice as it would be to have a remote appliance garage door opener, the real hassle with appliances is getting them out and then back in to the garage.

How about automated sliding palettes for each appliance? On the remote you could push a “blender” button, a “Cuisinart” button, or a “toaster” button. There’d be buttons for the coffee maker, the mixer and the can opener. Inside the garage, a carousel would spin around and then push the required appliance out the door.

As useful as the garage and its opener would be to dream-kitchen appliance management, they fail to address the greatest appliance nuisance of all: grunge. Or, to be precise: GLOBS.

So the garage should come with some kind of internal appliance-cleaning mechanism. Sonic, perhaps, like they have for dentures. A more direct approach might be a high-pressure spray. The Kaddy Car Wash people right here in Portland might be called in as consultants on this one. The whole garage would be built over some kind of drain board and sump, and inside would be sprayers. spinning appliance brushes and nozzles blasting jets of hot air.

My appliance garage/washer would be a dream come true for all those kitchen dreamers.

Come to think of it, how have we managed all these years without appliance garages and washers equipped with remote controls? I mean really!

No self-respecting dream kitchen or kitchen dreamer should be without one.

Consumer Reports, here I come!