6,730 km - A companion's companion

A trip to the cottage wouldn't be complete without a pic on Turtle Rock. The Accent, and Sarah, are happy to pose.

We're gassing up ($32) before heading back home. The gauge sits between a quarter and half, but they've yanked most of the gas stations between Parry Sound and Barrie, and it can be a crapshoot. I'm not going to risk emptying out in a car I don't know well enough yet.

Good thing - the woman at the gas station warns us of a terrible accident in Barrie. Closures, detours, the whole works. This is the challenge I've been anticipating in the Accent - traffic tie ups with a standard, and me with knees that can get a bit wonky. We're stuck in stop and go (and stop and stop) traffic for probably 45 minutes. The clutch is sweet, though, and forgiving.

I'm adjusted to sitting lower than I'm used to, but I think as drivers turn to smaller cars in general, this will be less of an issue. Sarah is blissful in the back, even falling asleep eventually.

So, can you travel with the Accent? Sure. It's a terrific weekend car if your kids aren't too huge, or for just two of you, you could easily get a week's worth of stuff in. It's great on gas, has excellent pick-up and cruising speeds, lots of cupholders and you can park it anywhere.

We squooshed things in the very back so I had a clear view out the rear. I'm curious how it would be in snow, but we drove in driving rain and it stuck to the road, and walked it up and down washouts without incident.

Life in friendly north

Saturday, Far North . . . Well, not so far north.

It is decided a trip into town is required, to test the Accent's small town abilities, and to get butter tarts. It's only taken half a tank of gas to go about 300 km, which is probably $30 or so. Town is a slow moving walkable feast - people randomly walk all over the road, tourists park all willy nilly, and everyone talks to each other.

I decide to take a snap of the Accent under one of the town's longest standing landmarks, the General Store. I barge right in with the car, but it's cute enough to get away with it. Jayne and Sarah stand across the street, pretending they don't know me.

The highway into, and hence out of, town is a windy two-laner in great shape. It's a fun ride, and the car handles nicely. It's a blast to drive.

6,399 km - Cottage drive a breeze

Friday evening, and we're heading north. I'm taking my neighbour Jayne and her daughter Sarah, 14. My son Christopher, 16, comes out front and asks if we're ready to go. "Yup," I tell him. He stares at the Accent, then at our minivan, and across at Jayne's new Camry. "You're taking that thing?" he asks, incredulously. "Yup," I tell him. He shakes his head. "This I have to see," he laughs. He's seen women pack for a trip before.

Well, get this. Into the hatch goes a full sized cooler. And three mid-sized gym bags. And a small case of water. And a case of iced tea. And two pairs of shoes. And 4 beach towels. And a volleyball.

And into the back seat goes Sarah, who's probably as tall as I am (over 5' 7"). She has leg room, and she's not tucked into the back seat like a sardine. She pops on her seat belt, and starts reading a magazine.

We admittedly have a dream drive up the 400 on a Friday night. Not a slow down, no congestion, nothing. We make record time, and the only moment I pause is as we approach an incline near our driveway. It's notorious for washouts in too much rain, and the road is pretty rutted. But the Accent (hereby called the Jelly Bean by everyone in my family - well, not so much the boy part of my family) expertly takes the uneven, unpaved road in first gear, and I'm impressed. This driveway is the reason most of the family have small 4X4s.

We get in and unpack in about twelve seconds. There is a great upside to bringing only what you need, and I realize how much useless crap I have hauled up in the past, just because I could. It wouldn't haul enough for a week, but it's terrific for a weekend.

6,362 km - Bimmer boy changes accent

I've been scooting down Hamilton's notoriously tight, and frequently one way streets for the past couple of days. The Accent means the end of 3 point turns - it literally turns on a dime if you should happen to find yourself, er, well, needing to suddenly be facing the opposite way.

I took it to 'work' at CHCH TV. I've adapted easily to going from being a larger vehicle (my van) to being one of the smallest in this sub-compact. I passed a lumbering wide- load model home thing the other day, something I couldn't do in the van. Size matters, all right.

I got my co-host, the notorious Mark Hebscher, to take the Accent for a spin. He's a car hound, and I got sick of hearing about his BMW.

At about 6'3", I was also interested to know what he thought of interior head and leg room. His pronouncement? "Great city car! This thing handles beautifully! It's really only 10 grand?" When you can get a car snob to happily pose for the camera, and re-enter the building shaking his head and exclaiming, "man, that thing is fun!", you've made progress.

Tonight, we pack for the cottage.

6,319 km - Take that, you Civic smartass!

Not much driving today - some of us work in the kitchen, and while the Accent may fit (and actually match - it's the same colour as my walls), I'm sure that's not the test I'm supposed to be putting it through.

A jaunt out to Waterdown put me on Dundas, where a snarky little Civic swung wide around me on a left turn and decided he could take me. Maybe it's the whole standard transmission thing, but, I won. Don't tell my kids.

As a rule I don't use a horn much in a car - people that need a good honking rarely know they're the ones being honked at - but someone on his Crackberry needed a nudge. I hadn't used the horn yet, and found it sounded much like a young lad who hadn't reached puberty. Though upon reflection, maybe this isn't such a bad thing. It seemed more polite, if a little feeble.

I have to admit though, I'm getting addicted to the gas this thing doesn't use. Mini Van Mama is having a blast.

I'll be in Hamilton for the next week co-hosting Live@5:30 on CHCH TV. Maybe I'll let Gerry the security guard take it for a spin....

6,279 km - Accent popular on gas-gouging weekend

I'm not sure if it's because I've gone from a 31-foot motorhome straight into the Accent, but everything feels effortless.

I scooted around yesterday to a couple of meetings, one of which was up the escarpment in Hamilton. The grade requires most trucks to have their four way flashers on, yet my baby had energy to spare. There is the hum noted by my predecessors around 120 km/h (in the name of science, I gave her a nudge just to test the words of everyone else, of course), but it really feels like nitpicking.

We're prepping for a run to the cottage this weekend - the neighbours have all turned out as we take measurements for Smart Food and wine.

With the news announcing that gas is going up at midnight tonight (again), we took our other two vehicles to the gas station. The needle doesn't move on the Accent - the cottage will be the real test.

6,225 km - Happy as a jelly bean

I picked up the Accent from the Star this morning after taking the GO train in from the 'burbs. The driver who had it before me,  the multi-fabulous car owning Robert Herjavec, had me thinking that the wee car would be happy to be back in the hands of, well, someone who would take the GO train out from the 'burbs to pick it up.

First impressions? Adorable little jelly bean. Love the colour - a kind of orangey red.

Second impressions? Herjavec may have looked "almost apologetic when standing between his two Lambos" (according to our exalted editor Mark Richardson in his piece on Saturday), but he was a bit forgetful for   leaving *my* new jelly bean with less than half a tank of gas and  the little extra detritus in the back. See pic, as I rat out a kajillionaire ...  I'm just peeved he didn't sign the cigar box top.

Third Impressions: Hopped on the Gardiner Expressway, instantly liking the feel of this car. It's fun. It's responsive.

Gas - 27 litres to fill.
Note to Mr. Herjavec: You owe me $34.05.