2002 Ultimate StreetCar Challenge: Grandma Test

Flashing her handicapped parking placard like a smooth thigh, she quickly found takers in the crowd. We thought she was trying to make a quick escape from the home, but it turned out the Lawrence Welk Show reruns were cancelled and she was bored.

We figured heck, what better way to judge driveability than let an Amazonian crone in an orange Mumu have a go in each car? Grandma gave each car a score employing her finely tuned hemorrhoids--among other ailments--to judge ride, comfort and streetability.

Gramsy rated the Sentra the highest, noting it's "comfortable, just like my care provider's, but the paint is tough on my astigmatism." A close second for the henhussy was the 360 Modena because, "I've always wanted to get my cookies in a Ferrari."

"Good thing I'm wearing Depends," escaped from the lips of an ashen Mumsy as she wobbled out of the Supra, whose owner obviously did a stellar job demonstrating the progression of automotive technology since she drove her first rock. A highlight for the matron was her ride in the Mustang. Grams thought the owner was a true Southern gentleman and would have seduced him had something not felt amiss--he was "driving a Mustang without a nice, greasy mullet."

Our day was going as planned until a gawky resident of the neighboring Pretentious Palms Retirement Home took interest in our going-ons. "What ch'all doin'?" she squawked, the intoxicating scent of Vick's VapoRub drawing curious competitors. Realizing her audience had a good percentage of single young men with obviously disposable incomes, she related that she recently backed her '81 Grand Marquis through a Civic, and needed a ride to the market.

Of great mystery to the blue hair was the Skyline, whose driver orientation, she decided was a dirty trick to confuse hard-working Americans. Our darling of the Social Security system recognized the Type R badge from the many Type R Accords, Escorts and Civics she sees around town, and plans on ordering her next Crown Vic so equipped.

The 300ZX fared well under Grammy's scoring system, scoring many points for her being able to watch a movie without having to turn up her hearing aid. According to the Missus, the Hyundai "squatted and did its business like Grandpa with the Sunday paper." Our swinging senior liked getting in the MR2 about as much as having her colon flushed, placing it second from the bottom. Coming in dead last was the 510, which rode "only slightly better than an earthquake" and made the cotquean's hemorrhoids flare up like a Kuwaiti oil well.

Besides a faint odor in a couple of cars, Gran Mere left us with a sorta female perspective and promised to crochet a shift knob warmer for next year's winner. She even chipped in some Fixodent to repair cracked welds on the intake manifold ("Fast & Furious" reference). Turned out her vote played a decent part in picking our winner--next year, we'll provide the prune juice and hope she remembers to shave those cacti she calls legs.