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About three years ago, Tim Baudler was stuck in traffic, checking out the scenery in a nearby car, when he had one of those great why-didn't-I-think-of-that ideas.
It's the kind of idea that could make him rich, let him quit his day job and set him up for life. Even better, it could land him a lot more dates.
Or not. The failure rate for business start-ups isn't encouraging, but tell me you don't think Baudler might be on to something here with Motodate.com.
First, some background. Baudler grew up on a farm near Fontanelle. He interned at Channel 8 and worked at the Record-Herald in Indianola before moving on to Meredith in Des Moines.
On assignment in Southern California, he decided Los Angeles was the place to be, moved to Hollywood and became an ad manager for a communications company.
Like everyone else out there, Baudler spends much of his life on the clogged freeway system. Thirty-six and single, he'll occasionally glance over at a car crawling along in the next lane and spot someone who sparks his interest.
Suzanne Somers isn't exactly Baudler's type, but remember "American Graffiti" and the mystery babe in the white Thunderbird? The beautiful blonde who had Richard Dreyfuss doubting his very reason for being?
Who has never had a Suzanne Somers moment?
But what is young Richard to do? Find a laundry marker and write a backward message on the windshield? Relay his phone number via sign language? Sit there with his mouth open like some kind of mope?
No. If Baudler has his way, the Mystery Babe has a Motodate decal or two stuck to her window.
Or the Mystery Babe is so intrigued by Richard Dreyfuss' window decals, she gets close enough to jot down the four-digit code number. She goes to Motodate.com and takes out a membership ($9.95 for processing and handling).
She checks out Richard's personal Motodate Web site, tries to ascertain whether or not he's a serial killer, fires off an e-mail and lives happily ever after.
"It's reverse online dating," Baudler says over the telephone. "You see the person first. You don't have to spend countless hours on the computer talking to someone you've never seen, then when the initial meeting takes place, there's no spark. Or they don't look like their picture. Say what you want about how the only thing that matters is on the inside, but if there isn't that first physical attraction, especially in L.A., it's not going to work."
With Motodate, you don't have to hang out in bars or crash weddings or slog through the personals.
Baudler got to thinking about this on the freeway. You see someone you want to meet, but how do you go about it?
"It didn't click," he says, "until some of my friends were telling me how they just flag them over on the road. One, it's not safe. Two, it snarls traffic even more. Three, it's not practical. That's when my mind really started going."
At the moment, the big downside seems to be market penetration. The typical Motodater is looking for a needle in a rolling haystack.
But Baudler, who charges $4.95 a month for the service, sees that changing. He sees a day when his decals will be as common across the country as air bags.
So does Motodate customer Hunter Maats, a 25-year-old aspiring actor and Baudler friend.
"It's great," Maats says. "You have no idea. Every freeway's a singles joint. It's like driving around the grocery store. And you get to see the goods before you spend $100 on dinner."
After about a month, he's already had three Motodates. Defying the needle-in-haystack-like odds, he parked next to another Motodater. Another time, a curious female asked him about his sticker.
"It's a great icebreaker," Maats says.
Baudler has a trademark and he's working on a patent. He has a company, Online Marketing International.
He thinks he has the demographics. By his count, 47 percent of the adult population in this country is single, which comes to 147 million people.
Of course, some of them are Richard Dreyfuss' age now, but that isn't a huge drawback. In Iowa, it could even be a plus.
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