Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Traditionally I have referred to my car as "The Gilded Palace of Sin"*. Now I don't even smoke there. I drive an 84' 300D German silver (that's a color - muted silver with a slight green-gold cast) diesel Benz. I intend to be buried in it. (A friend has a backhoe. This is Tennessee. It can happen.) Do not speak to me of new cars.
Changing my relationship with my car is proving to be an unexpected challenge (Ave Maria). Changing my dog Nell's relationship to it is heart-breaking (Ave Maria). Although I have never been a mobile phone person, and the radio quit working years ago, my automobile is still the center of many activities that have nothing to do with transportation... and some of them have got to go despite the 180 degree swivel of Nell's head when we pass a Hardee's. If this sounds like I'm whining.. you ought to hear Nell. This dance of the drama queens is worthy of a video. Might call it Remembrance of Things Passed... I'm thinking Phil Glass on the soundtrack.
"This way to the Egress." P.T. Barnum
*I was 21 when the Flying Burrito Brothers released their ever-green album entitled "The Gilded Palace of Sin". For a while, everyone called their car that. I simply never stopped. I am not alone.