Showing posts with label I'm in Love With My Car. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm in Love With My Car. Show all posts

Thursday, November 5, 2009

You are what you .... Eat? Wear? Drive?

He who walks through life as a chameleon sometimes goes to great lengths to present both an appearance and a persona to fit the occasion. Here is a photograph of Fram, taken while on the road (slightly off it at that precise moment) during a recent excursion. Judging solely from his appearance, it probably is safe to assume he was recognized by few and adored by many while on this trip, and that this "boy racer's" style of driving was somewhat more "accelerated" in an Audi than it would have been in a Chevrolet Suburban.
The chameleon returns .... well, sort of ....
It was not too long ago that I was writing an email and I made this comment: "I am melancholy, but happy, if that makes sense. A paradox. It comes whenever I listen to the music of Boston, which I am doing." Another day, I said I needed to play some heavy-duty rock and roll to prepare myself to be "warlike," so as to be in the proper frame of mind for cheering on the New York Yankees in the World Series. These are not the first times I have said such words in respect to the emotional effects of music, and it hardly is an original thought. After all, once upon a time someone noted, "Music soothes the savage ...."

More recently, again while writing an email after having sold my Chevrolet Suburban, I made this comment: "I should have sold the Ford Mustang and the Audi, and kept the Suburban, I think. The Suburban was more me, and I do not drive crazy in it like I often do in the Mustang and the Audi. Style and mannerisms in dress, in vehicles, in music -- in many things -- affect one's attitudes and behavior more than commonly realized, I believe. I drive like a teenage nut case in my Audi, and like a mature, well-mannered adult in my Suburban."

Image is one of the magic words here. Attitudes and behavior patterns are other key terms in the sense they are influenced by the image we desire, and vise versa. Some examples:

I have a well-worn, black, leather jacket. Some might describe it as a biker's jacket, and it shows the wear on its front that only miles riding against the wind can make upon leather. At times when I wear my hair "a bit longer than the norm," I am more inclined to wear this jacket while out and about than I otherwise am when my hair is cut rather short. Visualize the image, if you would: Biker jacket, jeans, cowboy boots, hair over my shoulders and probably sunglasses. Then imagine my attitude and my behavior, even my speech and my gestures. A chameleon passes among you.

In other moods, I will wear a Marine Corps T-shirt or battle jacket when I stroll the shopping markets. The Marine Corps elements affect my attitude and my behavior differently than does my biker jacket or, going the opposite direction, than does wearing a pin-striped, navy blue suit. Similarly, I might not only appear to be, but actually take on, the persona of entirely different people when I wear cowboy boots in contrast to when I am wearing running shoes. We all do, do we not? Or not? As I wander through the sea of blogs, I wonder how accurate a portrait many internet authors present of themselves.

The interesting part about this, of course, is not only how a piece of clothing will alter attitude and behavior, but how the image presented will influence the reaction of people encountered.

Lightning strikes! After all these months, I am drifting back into thinking and writing about the chameleon mode again -- the reporter as a chameleon. Do you remember him? I dress and act and talk like the image I wish to portray, like the person I wish you to think I am, to accomplish the results I wish to achieve. One day, the reporter wears a leather jacket, jeans and boots to interview a drug dealer; the next day, the reporter dresses in a three-piece suit to interview a bank president. In its most elemental form, the idea is to look, act and talk like the person being interviewed in order to win his confidence and trust.


So, then, there is one consistent element in my life, it seems: The chameleon, or, to take it even one step further, the masked chameleon. By all means, lift the mask and reveal tomorrow. Where have I heard that before?

In this instance, though, my thoughts today originate from questioning how the chameleon persona might affect the individual who is one -- his attitudes and his behaviors -- rather than how it influences the people he encounters and interacts with along the path he travels. Absolutely "fascinating," to revive an oft-used word from the chameleon's past. It might be worth writing a post about someday .... somewhere .... over the rainbow ....


Friday, April 17, 2009

Young ladies & cars sometimes are special

Slim, sleek, somewhat non-descript; it's all in her personality.

Ice Ice Baby ....

To say I have been neglectful of more than a few things the past three months would be an understatement. It has been a bad winter for me in several respects. Today, I decided to take out my 1991 Mustang, which has been resting idle in the garage, untouched since early January. You guessed it. Dead battery.

I bought this Mustang new. In another two years, with 20 years under her belt, I understand she will be considered a "classic car." The odometer reads 55,251. Know of many 18-year-old automobiles with only 55,000 miles? She is a GT with a 5.0 engine and a five-speed transmission = one hot car. I blew the speedometer on the day I bought her, and never fixed it. Give me one reason why I should.

She is not a vehicle in which a person wants to drive on a journey much longer than 50 miles. She runs close to the ground; the suspension is stiff and tight. This car is meant for running fast and taking sharp curves at high speeds, also meaning she is not designed for driver or passenger comfort. No lean, no sway, no drag, no bounce. She wants to challenge the wind whenever she is on the road, and the driver's butt and back pay the price for the thrill. Your body feels every ripple in the road that her body feels.

Before this one, I had a 1982 (you guessed it again) Mustang GT with a 5.0 engine. She had the words, “Ice Ice Baby,” painted on each side of her. If you cannot figure out why or where those words came from, do some research. I am not your daddy. (At least, I do not think so.)

It was not wise in dollars and cents for me to sell my old baby when I did, but I am not a late night talk show host who hoards vehicles. (Although, I did have five cars at one point -- dumb.) A stunningly beautiful young girl bought my former baby (at a discount price; wonder how she managed that?) so she could have a Mustang which matched her boyfriend's Mustang identically. Absolutely unbelievable. That girl is one in a million or a billion or a trillion. Really, have you ever heard of that?

This young girl would have been willing to pay a premium price for my baby. No way. This young girl was too special to pay a premium price. And, if you think I was "snookered" by a pretty face, I tell you this: I saw both cars, side-by-side, at a car show about a year later. My old baby never looked so fine when I ran her. She is well loved and she knows it and she shows it. I knew this would be true from my first meeting with the young girl who bought her; a young girl cannot hide her love for a young boy or for a particular automobile. Real, real love, I tell you true.

My current baby gets to rest another day with a battery charger to keep her company. I have a lot of words and gifts to give her to make amends for my neglect this winter. But, she is a real lady, and I am sure she knows I still love her. We all have bad times, and she understands that, and maybe even is grateful for being allowed to hibernate throughout this cold, snowy winter.

Saturday is tomorrow. We will talk it over then, and she and I can run a couple of roads. We will turn up the music and outrun the wind. We will shake more of the winter dust and cobwebs from ourselves. We will fall in love all over again.

Music Note: Listening to Queen ....
Specifically, "A Night at the Opera" ....
Some lines from "I’m in Love With My Car:"

I'm in love with my car

Gotta feel for my automobile
Get a grip on my boy racer rollbar
Such a thrill when your radials squeal

Told my girl I'll have to forget her
Rather buy me a new carburetor
So she made tracks sayin'
This is the end now
Cars don't talk back
They're just four wheeled friends now

When I'm holdin your wheel

All I hear is your gear
When I'm cruisin' in overdrive
Don't have to listen to no run of the mill talk jive

I'm in love with my car
Gotta feel for my automobile
I'm in love with my car
String back gloves in my automolove

Something special ....