Get smart

Charles, with pride, poses by his Smart car.

If you've been reading the blog, you know I have an affinity for cars. I especially like to talk about my Beetle.

A week ago Cindy and I dropped by my company's store in Prairie Village to see how it was doing. There, in front, sat a Smart car. It was red-orange, so very bright. Redder than a pumpkin, but not as red as a fire truck. Regardless of the hues, it grabbed your attention.

I guessed the car belonged to Charles Gusewelle, Kansas City Star columnist better known as C.W. Gusewelle. He and the book-publishing group I head, Kansas City Star Books, have had a long, strong relationship over the years. Charles writes the material, we publish his books. (Check out my favorites -- tales of his dog Rufus, tales of his many cats and, his latest, his time spent at an Ozarks cabin.)

He had been waiting for his new car for 16 months. Perhaps it had arrived.

I walked in, saw Charles sneaking a few samples of the toffee we sell -- he was there for a book signing -- and yelled hello.

"That your Smart car out front?" I asked, excited.

He reached into his pocket and, with one fluid motion, underhanded the keys to me. "Go take it for a spin."

We did just that. It was a glorious moment. Ever since gas prices had shot skyward, I'd been nagging Cindy about the need to buy a motor scooter to occasionally sub for my Beetle. Meghan nixed that idea for safety reasons. So I had turned to Smart cars as a green alternative.

Nevermind that gas prices have since turned south. (That won't last.) The idea of test-driving a Smart car that Saturday was nirvana.

We climbed in and marveled at the space inside. Despite the close proximity of the two seats, the vistas through the windows were wide; the sunroof above was huge. The storage area behind the seats was expansive.

First impressions? Good.

I turned the key and the motor rumbled to life. I put it in reverse, backed cautiously out of the parking spot, then headed east. I'd chosen the "automatic" mode, in which the car did the shifting on its own.

It was a tentative start, not like with my turbo Beetle that shoots out of the gate. No, this car befitted its name ... it smartly contemplated the shift from first to second, then debated the shift from second to third, then, finally, judged the shift from third to fourth as worthy and necessary. No rush; why rush?

We made our way around the block, methodically and with purpose. The drive was solid and sure-footed.

A quick note on the interior: It was well designed, befitting its Mercedes engineering. The modular lines were clean and very European; the seats were firm and comfortable. The stereo? Let's just say it was amped well.

We made it back, went inside and I handed the keys back to Charles. I loved it, I told him. And I thought: Officer Badge No. 3534, the subject of a previous post, would never, ever pull me and a Smart car over for speeding.

Which is an interesting notion: Do we speed because we have to, or because we can? I suspect the latter.

Charles and spouse Katie love their new friend, in part because of its economy.

"I got to a quarter tank on fuel, and I filled it up for just $6.75," Charles said, not so much boasting as marveling at the efficiency.

Okay, sure, there are issues of safety. A Smart car weighs 1,800 pounds. A typical SUV will be four times that. A semi truck? Don't ask. But then if you're smart, you'll not drive Smart cars near semis.

Ultimately, safety is relative. If we all downsized, would safety be compromised? No, not in the long term. And the long term is what we're about in this new Obama era. What changes can we make now to benefit us in the long term?

We like to pride ourselves on our American ways, of big cars, big appetites and big spending. The problem is, it's not always smart. We waste fuel, get fat and, lately, get poor.

Charles, wise because of his years, gets this.

Just watch.  So will the smart money on Wall Street.