Our local weather has turned is mood toward spring. Temperatures and the air don't feel balmy so don't even think of that label but the sky is clear and blue. Sunshine is abundant! Sunshine! Daylight is winking at us as early as 6:30. The temperature on checking this morning was fifty degrees.
The weather change prompted people to drag their non-winter cars out of the garage. There is a mid sixties Chevy Corvair convertible, great shape - no rusty cancer - although it can use a polish. Wonder how long the old hunched over white guy driving it has owned the car?
Down the road comes a mint green 1967 Pontiac Firebird coupe. My God, are those the original tires? No way but the owner has made some apparent efforts to keep something resembling their original skins on their beast.
Several Corvettes have crept out of hibernation. Eighty and ninety vintage, the plastic fantastic beasts have aged as well as Vegas show girls with a bad facelift. Most painful is the white one with blue stripes whose body seems warped. It trails a sad stream of thin gray blue smoke from its exhaust.
A pretty burgundy Porsche 911 goes by from the 90s. My stars, there's a black circa 80s Porsche 911 with a whale tail and Ruf wheels parked over there by that restaurant. Here comes a red 1970 era Datsun 510 and there goes a bright green Fiat from the same period, both sporting small strips of bright chrome as 'bumpers' on their spindly looking bodies. I wonder if the drivers know one another? Most fun, here comes a Triumph Spitfire, Mark IV from the tail lights and bumpers, British Racing Green, top down, blaring through the revs from first to second to third as it accelerates to thirty-five miles an hour. The pale white elderly driver's thin blond white hair flutters in the slipstream, sunshine gleaming off his pate.
Ah, spring. Ah, cars.
Ah, change and memory.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com