June 19, 1994

WHEN their parents are working, pre-teen-agers may not be ready to go home after school to an empty house. What do they do instead, at 3 P.M.? In New Jersey, the answers to that question are almost as open-ended as the choices of toppings on a pizza. According to a new census report, 8 percent of American children care for themselves after school; two-thirds of those are 12 or older. Very young children obviously need someone to watch them, while most high school students can take care of themselves.

THERE is, I discover, more than one sort of purple mood. There is the one that has turned Prozac into America's favorite vehicle for driving away funk. And then there is the one provoked by that metallic plum in the driveway. That mood manifests itself in a foolish grin. The car is BMW's new M3 coupe, a second generation of a hot two-door that originally bowed in 1988 and, unfortunately, went away two years later. What has been going on at BMW since then, however, makes the 1994 version worth the wait. The hitch is that only 2,000 M3's will be coming to this country this year.

Unless you speak insurance as a second language, your automobile policy may seem as incomprehensible as a repair manual for an intercontinental ballistic missile. But while that sheaf of papers may not make for exciting reading, it's a good idea to curl up with your policy once a year, just to review your coverage and consider changes that may be worthwhile. An automobile policy is actually a combination of many kinds of coverage, some mandatory and some optional, depending on the state in which you live. Each coverage has its own premium, so the annual cost for an auto policy represent a total of the separate premiums. The greater the amount of a coverage selected, the higher the overall cost.

New Yorkers express anxiety about the Police Department's ability to protect them, and many say there is widespread corruption in the force, according to a New York Times/WCBS-TV News Poll. The survey and follow-up interviews suggest a serious lack of confidence in the department because of a fear of crime and concern over revelations of corruption in several precincts.

The supermodel lives on the top floor of an unremarkable midtown brownstone decorated with ivy outside and characterized by a dark and creaky stairway inside. There is no elevator and that, happily enough, eliminates the need for a Stairmaster. Veronica Webb doesn't do gyms. She doesn't do bread, either, but that may be one of the few temptations she denies herself in life amid stardom.