I used to drive a car that you stopped and looked longingly at. First there was the 1968 Pontiac Tempest, dark blue with a Hearst shifter. Duncan, my big brother, bought it for me for my 16th birthday. The shifter was old and worn and though from the black leather cabin of the cavernous beast it looked very virile, it jammed and the local mechanic finally blessed me with a piece of cardboard and a wrench, teaching me to crawl under and release its linkage from reverse.
There was the new, fire engine red, Alfa Romeo convertible. We managed to rig up an early iPod-type device (it used cassette tapes) to the radio so I had music of my choice beyond the noise of the wind and the engine.
Later, it was a Corvette for Jeff and a Jaguar for me. The truck was the work-horse of the farm though in fact she was named Lady Vader. We custom ordered this truck from Dodge and it was the Ferrari of trucks in its time.
Years and vehicles came and went. One memorable vehicle was the long-suffering Tahoe that crisscrossed the country many times for both Lex and Hanni. I settled into my version of “one car poverty” when the girls were really gone. I traded my second Jaguar and an F-150 pick-up for the last amazing truck. She was a combination of Jaguar elegance and pick-up truck utility. Horse trailers, kayaks, loads for the dump, all rode quietly behind me as I commandeered the road from her heated/cooled Captain’s chairs with my choice of music and a back-up camera. Saturday mornings were reserved for errands in the “Big Truck.” I have driven down the road for years, never seeing myself coming from the other direction. I always made a statement.
Today, I picked up a Twilight Blue, base model Subaru Outback. It doesn’t have leather seats, It barely responds to my commands and I am now a member of the legion of Subaru’s coming toward me on any given road. I am anonymous. Well, I would be if I didn’t post these photos.
And being anonymous is so very right for me now. I am happy to swim in the sea of the un-noticed, those who are not trying to make a statement with the skin of a vehicle that moves them from point A to point B in life. It’s the moving that makes me different…