Rust and Dust

Just worked on cleaning the gas tank. But my parents got a new 1962 MGA this week. They took it for a spin as the tank was cleaning itself.




When I was a kid, I thought that my stuffed Monkey, that was like my teddy bear, had feelings and was alive. I (unfortunately) outgrew that as I got older. One thing I never outgrew was the belief that old cars have feelings because they are living entities. I have always felt that when a car, specifically an old car made of metal, blood, and sweat, was fired for the first time, it equated to a newborn baby being swatted on the butt as to take its first breath. So when I see old cars just rotting away, cast aside in a field or someone's yard, it affects me. Cheesy, I know, but it does. I get caught up in the history or nostalgia of the old car.

Take the pickle for example. I think of the first dates that may have taken place in that car. Maybe someone lost their virginity in her. I picture a dad picking his son up from the bus terminal after returning from Vietnam. All of the family functions and life-changing events seem to be discarded along with the the car when it is left to rot. An old car to me is more than just the sum of its rusted parts. I am probably making too much of this, but I saw this video on Youtube and I thought the videographer may have felt the way I do.

By the way, I still have my Monkey too...