Wienermobile

Like the rest of us, Ihlenfeld couldn't figure out what to do after he graduated from college, so he signed up with Hot Dog High where he would learn how to pilot a Wienermobile through the cities, towns, and freeways of California.

According to the author, a Wienermobile --- twenty-seven feet long --- is hot and uncomfortable, especially with the engine perched between the two front seats. His book is a tribute to the staying power of one who seeks direction after the rigors of a laid-back university education.

In this frankfurter on wheels, he and his three partners get to go to county fairs, shopping centers, store opening in such cities as Stockton, Victorville, Fresno, Bakersfield, all the while steering their freaky machine through the Tehachapi Mountains. (The engine always overheated on mountain passes, which means that rather than frying hot-dogs, the four of them got cooked over easy, with no relish on the side.)

The book is filled with the jokes you would expect from a horny twenty-something-year-old who claims to have little or no success with the ladies. "To be honest, I never expected to get with the girl, I never expect to get any girl," he says. Perhaps if he stopped calling women "girls," it might help some. Although, maybe not:

I figured the Wienermobile would provide me with the single greatest opening in history. Something like, "Would you care to step outside and see my twenty-seven-foot-long wiener?"

The Oscar Meyer Company gets a few too many plugs in Dog Days --- along with a complete historical run-down of its origins --- so it doesn't exactly inspire poetic heights. The hapless reader is saddled with such zingers as

Q.: "Do you sleep in that thing?"
A.: "No, it's not a Wienie-bago."
Q.: "Does it have air-conditioning?"
A.: "It's not a chili dog."
Q.: "How does it handle?"
A.: "It's very aero-dog-namic."

I suspect that if you and I attended a place called "Hot Dog High" we would have the same problems. Russ, their mentor at HDH says, "We want people who can go to Puck City, Oklahoma, and be curious about what's there."

We should have some sympathy with Ihlenfeld's parents. When he telephones to tell them that he's going to spend a year roasting inside a Wienermobile, "There is a beat of silence on the other end. I can sympathize with my parents' dilemma. They have two children on completely opposite ends of the son spectrum."

One is at the Air Force Academy, learning how to pilot fighter jets, and the other is thinking about driving a sausage car. Talk about different ways of serving your country.

In the interests of fair reporting, I will report that I had to give up around page eighty or so, where Dave is about to get to "second base" with his lady friend Margot. She is also called "girl who looks like a doll," although she's apparently a full-grown adult. He almost blows it when he insists they leave their motel room and do it in the Wienermobile. She resists. I did too.

With the icebergs melting in Greenland, the remains of a tsunami in Asia moving rapidly towards the coast, and my constant worry of the existentialist question of why we are here at all, I should hope we have better things to do than watch a couple fool around in a pink frankfurter on a mustard-colored bun with wheels.

--- Lolita Lark