Ford's "Driving Skills For Life" Program

Alex and I had the opportunity, courtesy of the Ford Motor Fund, to take a little overnight jaunt to Chicago on Mother's Day to observe and take part in their "Driving Skills For Life" program. It's a safety program geared toward teen drivers, in which the kids get hands-on experience behind the wheel, guided by professional drivers. The exercises concentrated on things like hazard recognition, reaction time, speed, and vehicle handling.

We had an uneventful flight (well, once we got on the plane, anyway) into Chicago on Mother's Day, and were met by a very pleasant driver, who would prove to be a nice counterpoint to the next day's surly driver. Alex wasted no time at all in making himself right at home in the limo.

We arrived in downtown Chicago with plenty of time to check into our well-appointed suite at the Embassy Suites hotel, relax a bit, and get ready for dinner. At the nice, not-too-early, not-too-late hour of 6:00PM, we gathered in the hotel lobby with our hosts from Ford and Social Media Group, and headed out to Maggiano's Little Italy, where we were treated to an enormous "family style" meal.

The food was good, and more than plentiful, and the company was interesting and engaging. Seated closest to me, representing Ford, so that we were able to visit a bit, were Ford spokesman Wes Sherwood, and Vice-President of Sustainability, Environment and Safety Engineering, Sue Cischke.

Wes and I had a common bond in that we both have 5-year-olds who will be starting kindergarten in the fall, so we had plenty to talk about there! The Ford folks at our table that night didn't seem to have very much background in social media (double-kudos to them for hiring a liaison who is social-media savvy), so much of our conversation was centered around The Way Of The Internet. It's obvious to me that big companies NEED go-betweens to help get their messages out to the online community--and there's nothing wrong with that! These are busy people in high-powered, high-stress careers, who don't have time to be blog-surfing or Twittering all day long. At the same time, Ford Motor Company obviously does have some internet-savvy folks among their ranks, as evidenced by their Flickr stream. Check it out--what they've done there is very, very smart: They have a good Flickr presence, with high-quality, well-described and tagged professional photos which they've made free for anyone's use. They also use the account to comment on others' photos, and add their own photos to all applicable Flickr groups, for maximum exposure. Smart, smart, SMART.

In conversation with Wes, I sensed a sincere desire on the part of Ford to connect with bloggers, their readers, and the consumer in general--this was not a slick, fake "shill" in the least. This was a regular guy, dedicated to his job, and honestly excited about the opportunities ahead, especially the importance of the DSFL program.

I could have spent another several hours listening to Sue Cischke, too. This is an inspiring woman doing a BIG job, and she has an amazing amount of knowledge over a broad area of expertise in her industry. I was most excited to hear her describing some of the research that's being done right now in developing new fuel sources...if I give you my dumbed-down version of that conversation, it's this: CARS WILL RUN ON GARBAGE. OK, so, yeah, I'm over-simplifying. But it's coming, I tell you! I came away with the feeling that, if I'd asked Sue, "So, where are our flying cars?" she'd have explained to me just how far along the flying-car research is at this point in time. Long story short (too late for that?), I was quite impressed by Sue.

We were able to get back to the hotel at a very decent hour, which, after the madcap pace of the J&J event, I really appreciated, especially since we had to be checked out and ready to go at 8:00 the next morning. Alex and I rolled out at the appointed time the next day, had a lovely breakfast of custom-made omelets in the company of the lovely Zoe Siskos of Social Media Group, and then went outside into a beautiful Chicago morning to wait for the car service to come and take us to Cellular Field (home of the White Sox) for the DSFL program. And we waited. And waited. An hour and a half we waited, apparently due to some mix-up with the car service (their fault, thankyouverymuch). Because of that delay, we missed part of the DSFL program--the "hazard recognition" portion, specifically.

We were, however, able to catch most of the program, and got to observe the teenage audience soaking in the talks given by Ford's professional drivers, all of whom seemed to have racing backgrounds.

The first session we observed focused on distractions, and many of the teens seemed genuinely surprised at how easily their attention was taken off the road, as the professional drivers riding along with them moved their mirrors, messed with the radio, pointed out landmarks...and then cheerfully informed the young drivers that they'd just missed a stop sign or taken out a road cone. POINT MADE. It was a hoot.

Then it was time for what we'd all been waiting for: The SKID CARS. We'd been watching the pro drivers spin out and skid the specially-customized Mustangs all over the Cellular Field parking lot all morning, and it just looked like a lot of fun.

The Mustangs were specially fitted with casters which took a great deal of the weight off the rear wheels, making the cars much more prone to skid in a turn.

Our next instructor, one of my favorites, did a fantastic job of explaining the physics of a skid in terms that the teenagers (and myself) could easily understand. I especially appreciated his detailed discussion of "target fixation," the phenomena which occurs when, instead of concentrating on where we're trying to direct our vehicle, we visually "fixate" on the object we're trying to avoid...which, ironically, makes us all the more likely to have a collision with that very object.

I was very impressed by all the professional drivers at work on this morning--they were cheerful, accessible, helpful, and very easy to understand. Also, they all had rockin' shades.

Alex and I exercised remarkable restraint in not shoving any of the kids aside to get our turn to drive one of the skid cars. We waited patiently, like grownups, and then got our chance. Our driver/instructor, who was impossibly young, was personable and fun. His name was David Bahr, and you can even check out his website. He showed us the basics of handling the car, then all too abruptly announced that it was MY turn. You know, to go too fast around the turn, so that I'd spin out, so that I could then try to correct the vehicle, pull out of the skid, and stay on the course.

I have to tell you, this exercise was very difficult for me to even attempt. Being a single gal with horses to tow and dogs to carry to shows for most of my adult life, I've only ever owned SUVs and pickup trucks. And if there's one thing that I'm cautious to the point of paranoia about in driving those vehicles, it is most definitely that you DO NOT NEGOTIATE TURNS AT SPEED, because that will cause your SUV or pickup truck to TURN OVER. David had to encourage me pretty vigorously to "accelerate into the turn!" To which I would answer, "I don't want to!"

Ultimately, though, I got up my nerve enough to let 'er rip (if David is reading this, I assure you that he is laughing his HEAD off at MY interpretation of "letting 'er rip,"), and felt the rear end of the Mustang sliding away from me, to the outside. My instinctive response? I let go of the wheel. This is not the right answer, for those of you following along at home. By "let go," I don't mean that I threw my hands up in the air or anything, just that I released my grip on the steering wheel enough so that it slid freely through my grasp of its own volition, until it reached the "home" position in which the wheels were straight. This tactic totally works... if you're going 3 miles per hour. But at skidding speed? Not so much. So my first attempt had me facing back the way I'd come, which is not what you want. But the next few times, I conquered that bugaboo, and manually corrected the wheel as David had instructed. I did not "target fixate," which kind of surprised me, because when I'd been outside the car, I'd been hyper-aware of all the nearby lampposts scattered between the skid courses, and was sure I'd be sliding into at least one of them, or, worse yet, another car.

But here's what I did NOT see coming, and herein lies the value of an opportunity like this, an opportunity to have a "controlled accident:" All through my skids, even the corrections, my tendency was to NEVER TAKE MY FOOT OFF THE GAS. That's right, something in my brain thought it would be a good idea to just keep on accelerating through the entire process. David had to say, "stop," every single time before I'd remember to brake. That, folks, was a rude awakening, and something I never would have guessed to be a problem. David informed us that it was a common accident response, because of adrenalin, tension, and inexperience (and really, how many of us are "experienced" at having--or avoiding--accidents?).

I'd also like to thank David for his take on one of my personal little pet peeves of driving instruction, which is the advice to "steer into the skid." That phrase, to me, is deceptive, and what I've always said to myself (and what my dad said to me long, long ago when teaching me to drive) instead, is, "steer in the direction you want the car to go." David said it that way, and it made ever so much more sense than "steer into the skid." He also pointed out the many things that come after "steer into the skid," chief among them the fact that, at some point, you have to STOP. So thanks, David--it was educational and fun, and I learned a lot, even if I'm old enough to be your...um, let's say "cool aunt," OK?

In another little gem of unconventional wisdom, the female race driver we rode with in another session informed us that, in her opionion, the "10:00 and 2:00" position of your hands on the steering wheel doesn't give you nearly the control that you get at 9:00 and 3:00. I've got a feeling that you could take lessons from these drivers for weeks on end and keep learning new things. I know I'd LIKE to.

And then, for our trouble, Ford gave us this sweet, sweet car. Cool, huh?

I'm KIDDING. They gave us a nice lunch. Which Alex and I skipped in favor of a visit to Giordano's before our flight out.

If you'd like more information about Ford's Driving Skills For Life program (I know I, for one, would like to know how to get them to come to MY hometown), follow the links in this post, or leave a comment here, and I'll make sure the right person sees it. This is a company that has always been on the forefront of driver safety research and development, and I found them to be quite open and responsive. Thanks to the Ford Motor Fund for giving us the opportunity to learn more about this great program for teens.

Click here to see my full photo set from this trip.

Disney Travelogue, Part One

We set out last week, bright and early, and got to the airport with plenty of time to spare. Yaaay, us! And then we were promptly fogged in. For HOURS. Thank goodness for Webkinz and Leapster.

Even so, it wasn't long before Bella was losing patience, and crying, "Can we just go to Disney World already? THAT'S WHY WE'RE HERE." Our original flight was delayed, delayed, delayed again, and finally canceled. If you want to witness a really sad scene, hang around the airport terminal when they announce the cancellation of the day's only flight to Orlando, and then watch two dozen Disney-bound children burst into simultaneous tears. Eventually Alex got us another flight that, unfortunately, went through Atlanta instead of directly to Orlando. Bella was really excited about flying, and thoroughly loved it. I was apprehensive at first, mostly due to the good-sized crop of trepidatious (the correct word is "trepid," just in case you're relying on me for vocabulary enrichment, but it's not nearly as satisfying as "trepidatious"), sobbing children all around us. I thought their anxiety would be contagious, but I needn't have worried. It wasn't long before she was an old hand at flying, and was ordering snacks and beverages like she'd been doing it her whole life.

And yes, those are MY iPod earbuds, and yes, they fit my five-year-old daughter. If you are similarly afflicted with teeny-tiny ears, and standard iPod earbuds are a problem for you like they are for me (and my kid), then I highly recommend this model, that my mom found. They're made by Sony.

So it was that we arrived in Orlando not around noon, as intended, but something close to eight hours later, and dog-tired. We took Disney's Magic Express (definition: comfy bus with a perfectly-timed Disney infomercial playing on GPS-driven television sets) from the airport to our hotel, leaving our checked bags behind for Disney to pick up and deliver to our suite. In hindsight, if we'd picked up our own bags, we would have been able to go to sleep in our own pajamas that night, but we weren't exactly thinking straight.

No matter what time you arrive, Disney's Grand Floridian Resort and Spa is one heck of an impressive place. Bella and I were both well-entertained by the ginormous Christmas tree and life-size gingerbread house (yes, made of real gingerbread) for the duration of the checking-in process. Alex's mom had secured us some first-class lodgings, and we were verrrrry grateful.

In that backpack is her Webkinz pink pony, "Alice." She wore it ALL DAY LONG, never once taking it off.

Once the concierge had us finally settled into our rooms, albeit without luggage at that point, we ordered room service and went to bed, which caused our luggage to be delivered at last. No, I can't prove causation, but that's how it played out.

The next morning, we were off to the Magic Kingdom, where we had reservations in Cinderella Castle for breakfast at Cinderella's Royal Table. I cannot possibly overstate the anticipation for this event in one five-year-old girl. Having said breakfast reservations gets you into the park shortly before it opens, along with the opportunity for pictures like this (click it, please--it's so pretty!):

But be aware that while you're taking that picture, you're just about to miss THIS one:

And you really want to document that first glimpse of CINDERELLA'S ACTUAL CASTLE in person...which will be followed shortly by a near-meltdown due to overwhelming emotions. I believe the sentiment expressed at this point was, "THIS IS JUST BLOWING MY MIND!"

Click through to see the note on this photo, and how we very nearly lost Bella to Disney Princess Delirium. More to come.

An Open Letter To The Hotel Industry

WASH MORE BEDCLOTHES.

That's it, pretty much. We stayed at two hotels last weekend. The first, in Clarksville, TN, had the standard (nowadays) hotel fare of the bed with a plain flat sheet over a flimsy mattress "pad" and then another flat sheet on top of that, with a ratty blanket and one of those you-only-see-them-in-hotels cheesy bedspreads.

First of all, what happened to fitted sheets? Is it THAT much trouble to make up a bed with a fitted sheet? Are you paying the housecleaning staff SO much per hour that the extra 20 seconds it would take them to secure a fitted sheet to each bed cuts dramatically into your profit margin? Is it a matter of streamlining the laundering/folding/sorting process? Because, really, you MUST know that the stupid two-flatsheets-serving-as-top-and-bottom-sheets system is way substandard from a guest comfort standpoint. And honestly? When that sheet creeps up, down, or sideways, as it is going to if you so much as walk BY the bed or look at it funny, and we have to see that BARE HOTEL MATTRESS? Well, Hotel Industry, that skeeves We The Hotel Guest right the heck OUT.

The first thing I do upon checking in to most hotel rooms is to strip the bed of comforter/bedspread, blanket, and pillows, stash them in a closet or under a desk, and then make the bed up with my OWN bedding, which I have brought from home, putting as much of my own stuff between me and that rental bed as humanly possible. Because we know, you see, that you don't wash those things unless you absolutely HAVE to, and the fundamental truth of life is that, universally, OTHER PEOPLE ARE NASTY. And thanks to "Dateline," their black-lights, and my own personal neuroses, I'm passing along this hotel-hinkiness to my daughter, who, at preschool age, already knows that you can't sit on the floor of the hotel room to watch TV unless you spread a towel on the carpet first, and that to stray off that protective terry layer with any part of your person is tantamount to touching RED-HOT LAVA.

Now here is where I go all gushy with praise for one of your proud members, Hotel Industry. Look, ye, unto The Hampton Inn. Particularly relevant to this post, the Hampton Inn Bellevue, just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. Imagine, after our experience in the first hotel described above, the wave of gratitude and delight and relaxation that washed over me when I first noticed the sparkling, fluffy whiteness of all the bedding in our Bellevue room, and then when I read the following words, typed out on the little information card propped on the clean, clean pillowcase(emphasis--and implied delighted squealing--mine):

"The new Hampton bed is comfy, cozy and clean all over. Everything from the lumbar pillow (!!) to the overstuffed duvet (!!!) to the custom-made sheets and pillow cases have been laundered fresh especially for you."

They didn't even have to brag about the gloriously FITTED bottom sheets on the beds, and the actual, REAL mattress pads underneath, because we could SEE them. And you know what we COULDN'T see, Hotel Industry? A SKANKY MATTRESS. I'm not saying there wasn't one under there, but you know the American public--out of sight, out of mind. It's a step in the right direction. And I can tell you, I rested better in that room for the short time we were there than I had for days, because I wasn't waking up every little while, tugging frantically at a flat, non-fitted sheet, worrying about mattress cooties and how close I was to being covered with them.

And here's a thought that should hit you where you live, Hotel Industry: We're not made of money, my little family, and when we travel, we do whatever we can to keep as much of our money in our pockets as we possibly can. We choose mid-range hotels, usually just nice enough to keep us out of the scary neighborhoods. BUT. Given the option of two hotels, side by side, identical in every way, aside from the bed linens, with one hotel being appointed like our Clarksville hotel, and one appointed like our Nashville-area hotel, WE WOULD HAPPILY PAY A SIGNIFICANTLY HIGHER ROOM RATE FOR THE CLEANER, BETTER-APPOINTED BEDS. Do you hear that, Hotel Industry? And that Hampton Inn room in Bellvue, that was like a $70 hotel room, so we're not talking The Four Seasons, here. But we would EASILY, and with smiles on our faces, fork over up to, say, 50% more for a room cleaned to that standard, over the comparable, but sloppier room. That should really be enough of a difference to more than make up for the increased housecleaning resources you'd have to expend in order to maintain such a standard.

Oh, and on a tangential note, Hotel Industry: When you assign someone a room that is one of a pair of adjoining rooms, but the party on the other side of those double-doors is UNKNOWN to the guests they're "adjoined" to...TRY to assure that the doors on EACH side of that double-door arrangement do, indeed, LATCH.

And one other thing, this time addressed to Families Travelling En Masse For The Purpose Of Convening At A Gigantic Family Reunion Complete With Matching T-Shirts And Barbecue: Please, please, PLEASE, for the love of Pete's sake, do NOT pool your resources among family members in order to dump anywhere from six to twelve very loud and rowdy children, sans adult supervision, into one hotel room together while you escape to other, blissfully peaceful adult-only rooms, especially if that room is one of a pair of adjoining rooms, and the people in the other room are strangers to you who do not love your six to twelve very loud and rowdy children, particularly their repeated attempts to break into said adjoining room. That's just not right. (And Hotel Staff: When a guest calls to complain about the non-latching door and break-in attempts described above, the correct response to complaining guest is NOT, "Um, I think they're gone right now.")

The only other suggestion I have to make to the Hotel Industry that could improve everyone's hotel experience is that every attempt should be made to let hotel guests, for example in places such as Nashville, know when they are in such delicious proximity to divine blogger-peeps the likes of The Blogger Formerly Known As Lucinda and BusyMom. Because when you get back home and find out how close they were, and that they already even know each other and hang out and stuff, it will cause you emotional pain to think you missed them by so little.