Doug's promising career took a wrong turn back in 1987. At the time, Dougie had a "real job" as News Director of Boston's NPR affiliate, WBUR. He had been News Director at the NPR station in Amherst, Massachusetts, a Production Assistant for "Morning Edition" and "All Things Considered" at NPR in Washington, DC, and had graduated from Wesleyan University in Connecticut, where, according to all accounts, he majored in West African drumming (hence, "Bongo Boy").

But in the late '80s, as his mother laments, "he fell in with the wrong crowd." He started spending time with us. In 1987, when Car Talk was still a fledgling local show, Dougie volunteered to take charge...which he did...turning it into the fledgling national show it is today.

Dougie came with us when we founded Dewey, Cheetham, and Howe in 1992, and since he was our only employee, we named him CEO. (It beat giving him something expensive like benefits or his own chair!) Since then, he's led our charge into other ventures, like our newspaper column, audio publishing, cartalk.com, and some project called Whitewater that he won't tell us much about.

Dougie, not a slave to fashion, lives in Cambridge (our fair city), where he still secretly follows the Mets via satellite. He lives with his wife, Sip, a veterinarian (insert Doug-care joke here) their dog Lucky, and a three-legged cat that Sip saved, named Lefty.

Louie Cronin, AKA "The Barbarian," is one of our Associate Producers. Why we have two, we'll never know. We still haven't figured out what Berman does all day. Anyway, she came to us from WBUR, where she had been a producer for a brainy, literate show called "The Connection." But we offered free ice cream and a four-day work month, so with the poor decision-making skills common to all Car Talk producers, she jumped ship.

A Cambridge native (but not a townie, Louie is quick to point out), Louie began her long and seemingly random career right across the street from Car Talk Plaza, at the stationery counter at Woolworth's. Sadly, she was fired from Woolworth's for whistling, so this return to Harvard Square is something of a personal triumph.

Louie attended several fine Catholic schools in the area, where the nuns predicted, quite rightly, that she would end her days "in the gutter." After graduating from UMass-Amherst with a dubiously crafted degree in electrical engineering, Louie spent the next 11 years working as a token woman engineer for a number of important-sounding acronyms and call letters, among them ABC, NBC and WGBH. She left engineering to pursue a career in writingÑnot realizing that writers don't make any money. Consequently, over the ensuing years she worked as a proofreader, pretzel vendor, pickle packer and pastry chef. She then fled the work world for the Creative Writing Program at Boston University, only to graduate and realize, once again, that writers don't make any money. Duh!

Louie has lived in Boston, Amherst, San Francisco and New York and has managed to avoid several doomsday cults and marriage. Of course, she's working for Car Talk now...so apparently her luck has changed.

In her ample free time, Louie writes short stories and makes origami ornaments from the thousands of rejection letters her stories have garnered. She convinced an editor to publish one of them in the "Princeton Arts Review," but so far no other journals have been taken in.

Although David Greene, our Associate Producer, didn't officially join our staff until the summer of 2000, his relationship with Car Talk dates well back to the 1980's. As a Production Engineer at WBUR in the late 1980's, David filled in on our show several times. (This was known around WBUR as "drawing the short straw.") On one occasion, he basked in the nationwide celebrity that followed his appearance in the credits as, "Our engineer this week is not Ken Rogers."

David's resume also proudly lists a phenomenally unsuccessful audition for the role of Chief Mechanic Vinnie Goombatz. In the early 90's, David became WBUR's Executive Producer for "Morning Edition." In 1993, he put his first life lesson from Doug Berman into practice: "Why do something that requires you to work every day if you can do something that only requires one day a week?" In July 1993, David helped launch public radio's first weekly sports program "Only a Game" with Bill Littlefield. David produced "Only a Game" until April 1997, when Berman drafted him to help launch NPR's new weekly news quiz program, "Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me."

David served as Senior Producer to "Wait Wait..." until October 1999, when his homesickness for the Tasty, Elsie's, and the Wursthaus brought him back to Harvard Square. Unfortunately, they had all gone out of business, but he was already here, so he figured, why not work for Car Talk?

David is married to an extremely patient woman.

Doug's first word in life was "car." Unfortunately, no one made note of the second word, but we wouldn't be surprised if it was "talk." Depending upon his level of self-esteem when asked, he is either the Official Multimedia Associate Producer for Dewey, Cheetham & Howe... or Senior Web Lackey.

Mayer grew up in New York City but quickly fled to the White Mountains of New Hampshire during his high school years. In college, at Brown University, Mayer spent much of his time as General Manager of WBRU-FM, an alternative rock station in Providence, Rhode Island, and frequent winner of Rolling Stone's Station of the Year award.

Then, sadly, he met us. Talk about getting derailed!

Mayer slaved away for a few years as Car Talk's first Assistant Producer. Realizing that such an association was having a profoundly detrimental impact on his intended career track, he left to spend a number of years as a partner in several companies that traded radio stations like cheap Monopoly pieces. Feeling a need to do something slightly more creative than stare at spreadsheets, Mayer went on to write a number of humor books, including, Newt! A Paper Doll Book, The Supreme Court Paper Doll Book, Bill and Al's Excellent Adventure, and The Cutting Edge, all of which can now be bought at Amazon.com for approximately seven cents each.

It was during this time that Mayer was detained by New Hampshire's Mount Washington Observatory to launch a daily weather feature, "The Weather Notebook." It received funding from the National Science Foundation and was aired for more than a decade on over 200 stations.

In 1996, Mayer rejoined Car Talk to coerce us into getting some work done — until, a few days later, he caved and adopted our policy of extended siestas and hour-long cappuccino breaks.

When not napping at his desk at Car Talk Plaza or at his home office in Randolph, New Hampshire, Mayer serves on several boards, including the Randolph Mountain Club and the Waterman Fund and even the highly coveted White Mountain Jackass Company. Doug enjoys cappuccino and good coffee. So much so, that, to assure a steady supply, he's partner in the White Mountain Café with his pals Matt and Jenna.

In his free time, Mayer likes to hike, climb, kayak, mountain-bike and tour on his road bike. He has been known to sell family members into bondage for an opportunity to telemark-ski in the Alps, Colorado, Cascades, Utah or any place with more than a quarter-inch of water ice.

As a rule, Mayer's activities eventually lead him to teams of orthopedic surgeons, and he would like to take this opportunity to thank Drs. Urbanek, Rowland, Irons, and MacDowell of Dartmouth-Hitchcock, and the kind nurse who brought him that Foley catheter at the last possible minute.

Catherine Fenollosa serves as our Associate Producer, Emeritus — a title that roughly translates as, "She's married, has kids, can't work full time, but we still like having her around."

Though we haven't told her, it's our humble opinion that Catherine apparently was bitten by a tsetse fly while on vacation in Africa. What else could possibly explain an otherwise sane person returning to work with us?

Catherine began her career across the Charles River at WBUR in Boston, where she worked as a news writer and production assistant for Morning Edition.

In 1996, we sweet-talked her into joining us at Car Talk Plaza, with the official title of Associate Producer in Charge of Many Things. Her tasks included helping Tom and Ray sound smart (well, smarter, anyway), mentoring staff on all matters of fashion, and keeping the local shoe stores in business — all tasks which she performed par excellence.

After tying the knot, Catherine and her husband, Josh, moved to New York City. Having worked with us, Catherine was admirably prepared for a city full of wackos. There she worked for the WNYC/Public Radio International radio show, "The Next Big Thing" — a show that lived up to its name. Until it went off the air, that is; earning it painfully obvious nicknames like, "The Last Big Thing."

After four years of world-class museums, sky-rocketing real-estate prices, and the best roast pork buns ever at Chelsea's Grand Sichuan on 24th Street and 9th Avenue (shhh... don't tell anyone), Catherine once again felt the call of Our Fair City.

Okay, we're lying. It was either that or living in a shipping container along the East River.

Back in town, Catherine landed once again at WBUR as Senior Associate Producer of NPR's "The Connection." This show also went off the air.

That's two down, Catherine. Are we next?

In 2005, Catherine and Josh made their best decision yet and welcomed their smashingly cute son Henry into the world, soon followed by his equally charming brother, Leo. Now Catherine has returned to the hallowed halls of Dewey, Cheetham and Howe, as Queen of Puzzler Tower. (You didn't know the Puzzler had its own kingdom? Where have you been?) Befitting the tootsies of royalty, Catherine continues to keep the shoe store owners in Our Fair City smiling when they see her visage gracing their aisles.

Apparently, Catherine's never quite forgotten a piece of advice Ray once gave her: "It's just Car Talk. Quit pretending it's work!"

John is Car Talk's studio engineer. While the rest of the Car Talk staff dozes in various stages of REM sleep during the show, it's John's job to stay awake enough to put callers on the air, and remind Tommy to speak into the microphone.

John was born in 1980, making him a veritable infant on our staff.

John attended Emerson College, with dreams of engineering a respectable show. He received an Audio/Radio Production degree in 2002.

Like many graduates before him, John's degree prepared him admirably for a career in a local liquor store.

After a few months of selling Boone's Farm and Night Train to underemployed public radio announcers, a job offer from WBUR didn't seem so bad. After weighing his options over a few Pabst Blue Ribbons, John crushed a few beer cans on his forehead and took the plunge.

Today, he works as the staff engineer for both Car Talk and one of NPR's respectable shows, "Only a Game."

John claims to enjoy his Car Talk engineering gig for three reasons:

Reason 1. It's easy.

Reason B. It's fun.

Reason III. When he was a kid his father used to listen to Car Talk non-stop on Saturdays. He hated Car Talk so much, he would leave the house. Now, finally, he listens to Car Talk — and gets paid for it!

John "Bugsy Sebastian Mr. Height Sweet Cheeks Free Lunch Twinkle Toes Donut Breath Hula Hips Gigabyte Make That Two Triple Cheeseburgers" Lawlor is the Technical Advisor for Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe. What does that mean? How the hell do we know? We never see the guy! Actually, Bugsy is one of the sweetest guys you'll ever meet. He shows up while we're on the air with a couple of dozen donuts. Fortunately, this is an assignment for which "The Bugster" is admirably prepared, having worked as a Boston police officer for more than a dozen years.

Bugsy has had a long and sordid career in the automotive world—beginning as a prepubescent punk, drag racing his '63 Corvette Convertible on Route 1 outside Boston. He even had his own automotive radio show on Boston's WBZ for several years—until the station manager over there found out.

Bugsy is also in charge of dealing with all of the auto manufacturers and arranging for the new vehicles we test drive. For example, let's say we test drive the new Mercedes E 320 for three months. Then, on the show, we'll say something like, "What a hunk of nazi junk—I'd rather have a Taurus" It then becomes Bugsy's job to explain to all the irate German executives that Tommy was having a hemorrhoidal flare-up and has no recollection whatsoever of having made such remarks.

In his free time, J.Bugsy S.M.H.S.C.F.L.T.T.D.B.H.H.G.M.T.T.T.C. Lawlor scours the planet in search of his next free lunch. As listeners to our lousy show know, we report back each week as to where he happens to have located that week's gratis repast. At his sprawling homestead, nicknamed "Bugsyworld" by the Car Talk staff, Bugsy is amassing an extensive collection of "antique car memorabilia" — AKA junk.

Alison is the Web Designer for the Car Talk web site. This is much preferable to her other possible job title, which, having been born and raised in Maine, would have been Potato Digger.

Alison came to Boston in the late 80s for college — and stayed. (Admittedly, there was a one-year stint in Chicago, but the terms of her court settlement do not allow us to discuss this period of her life — at least until she has completed paying reparations.) Alison has worked as a graphic designer in a variety of environments, from the Boston Ballet to a tiny four-person design studio.

Alison is noted for her exceptionally bizarre and recurring dream of personally designed loft spaces in New York City. The most recent had a stained glass staircase up to a roof deck with a sign hanging outside that said "Ric's." Her therapist quickly and correctly diagnosed her phobia of Casablanca film festivals, which she avoids at all costs.

Speaking of films, her real dream is to have one of the screenplays she's written made into a movie all while not having to move to "the other coast." Her latest script is sort of "Mean Girls" meets "Shakespeare in Love" meets... "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure." Sort of.

In her free time, Alison procrastinates working on her screenplays, skips book club meetings, skis, kayaks, and frequently visits the beach in her new Volvo.

P.S. Any man who has read the above bio and is still not afraid of Alison is welcome to email her as long as he's under 40, over 6 feet tall, knows how to cook, and has a seven-figure trust fund.

Steve is Car Talk's Chief Nerd, which is somewhat unusual, because he got his start at Hampshire College — an institution known more for its free-range granola and earth-tone Birkenstocks than its Java-programming geeks. When not engaged in pagan solstice rituals, Steve studied film, animation and computer science. Overloaded on experimental documentaries, and after an unfortunate incident involving Gumby and the Seven Dwarves, Steve opted to stick to computer science, concentrating on multimedia and human-interface design.

Home in San Francisco and waiting for the Internet to start, Steve killed time with a multimedia company that produced CD-ROMs. Realizing he was working far too hard, however, he moved to Boston and, wisely, met us.

Car Talk, however, has not been a good influence on Steve. As a result of our encounter, Steve took a liking to goats, moved to Maine, became a whacko, then moved back to Cambridge and became, well, a more urbane whacko. Not needing any more whackos, Cambridge kicked him out. Steve then moved to Portland, Oregon, where he hangs out with granola-munching, ultimate-Frisbee-playing hippie types. In the Federal Nerd Protection Program, rumor has it that Steve may be moving to London, England, in the near future.

In his free time, Steve is a freelance nerd, plays and watches professional soccer and enjoys building things from wood. Why wood? Because when it breaks, it can be glued back together in no time. (Unlike the long, late nights required to debug obscure programming codes.)

To counteract his long hours spent under fluorescent lights, Steve likes kayaking, running, biking, swimming and, well, you already know about the goats. Fun Car Talk fact: Steve once worked at a car wash, and cherished those quiet moments he got to drive really fancy cars between the vacuum pit and the wash.

P.S. Any woman who has read the above bio and is still not afraid of Steve is welcome to email him. (Preference will be given to anyone with experience participating in and/or winning quadrennial global soccer tournaments.)

Geraldine McGowan, a.k.a., "Typos," is Car Talk's staff proofreader, grammarian and punctuation czar. But don't let the Irish surname fool you... Gerri is actually half Sicilian and wields her blue editing pencil like a stiletto, taking every misplaced comma as a personal affront to the "Family."

Although her personal history is shadowy (okay, some would say boring), Car Talk has learned through various channels that Gerri grew up on Long Island, where she was raised as a general contracting princess — she had her own tool belt (in pink). Her age is also cloaked in mystery. Suffice it to say that she is old enough to remember when the Datsun 260Z was a hot car!

Before joining Car Talk, Gerri worked in a variety of positions in the publishing field — including a brief stint as chocolate reviewer for a magazine devoted to all things chocolate. Fed up with the "glamorous" (read: low salary) world of publishing, Gerri decided if she was going to work for low pay, she might as well work somewhere with equally low standards: Car Talk! As we keep telling her, the company motto is "It's only Car Talk!"

For fourteen years, Zuzu was the official dog of Dewey, Cheetham & Howe. She was born to a black Lab father and German Shepard/Rottweiler/Bull Terrier etc., etc., etc., mother; both of whom, like Tommy, spent their days hanging out in Harvard Square.

Zuzu was adopted by Dougie, raised in a loving home, and trained to sit, stay, come, heel, and catch a dog biscuit off her nose by a gentleman Tom and Ray refer to as "the dog Nazi." Despite her excellent training, Zuzu still retained the spastic charm and lovable nature of a carefree mutt (she prefered the PC term "Pure-breddedly Challenged"). Zuzu had a spectacularly sweet disposition. She was an expert swimmer, a decent typist, and frequently filled in for Louie when she was on vacation.

Zuzu's hobbies included sniffing crotches, barking at the mailman, rolling in disgusting dead things, cleaning peoples noses with her tongue, and placing a dog-slimed tennis ball on the lap of any visitor to Dewey, Cheetham & Howe who made the mistake of wearing a business suit.

On August 22, 2007, Zuzu succumbed to complications of bladder cancer, in the arms of her human companion, Dougie. Also nearby were her dog mom, Sip, and her adopted sister, Lucky. All were distraught. There were many mourners around Harvard Square, including a number of bums, who, noticing Zuzu's absence, asked, "Hey, where's your dog? Spare some change?"

Zuzu received a number of accolades during her life, including being honored with Customer of the Week at the Peet's Coffee here in Harvard Square.

She also co-starred in many Car Talk holiday cards over the years. Check them out — and see if you can find Zuzu!

Chloe Mayer is Car Talk's Assistant Staff Canine.

Chloe commutes to Car Talk Plaza with Doug Mayer, her human companion. At Car Talk, her primary responsibility is to greet visitors, shake her tail so violently that her butt knocks over boxes, and bark menacingly when a visit from weird Bob next door is impending.

When not on duty at Car Talk Plaza, Chloe is responsible for keeping a number of beds at Mayer's home office warm and fur covered, and staying on guard against the constant threat posed by possible Fed Ex, UPS-guy or Jehovah's Witness visits.

In her 22 hours of free time each day, Chloe enjoys sleeping, running alongside skiers, sleeping, hiking, trail running, compost-pile excavation and cataloging, mindless retrieving of objects of all kinds and sleeping.

The daughter of Emma and Tucker of Bethel, Maine, Chloe asks that you not hate her because she is beautiful.