Too cold to start a fire
I'm burning diesel, burning dinosaur bones
I'll take the river down to still water
And ride a pack of dogsI'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run
***"Rusty Cage" by Soundgarden
Three weeks ago my mood was soured, so I went to the library to sweeten my disposition. I found a little sugar in the parking lot. This made my day:
2 comments:
Not sure if they still do it, but when I lived in Germany in the late '80s, you'd see lots of cars with zebra stripes, leopard spots, or other strange paint jobs. Or cars painted in Coca-cola logos. I think the reasoning was, they only made two kinds of cars back then: either $80K Beemers or $8K Fiats. So if you were going to drive a little piece of junk, you might as well have fun with it.
I spend too much time thinking about how much of our life we sleepwalk through, doing the stuff everyone tells us to do. Like, why don't we use car-quality paint on the inside of our home? Would be great for a kitchen backsplash — spaghetti sauce would wipe right off. Or, in the kid's room. Give 'em a grease pencil and let them draw all over the walls, and then you could erase it with some windex and a sponge. Cars, on the other hand, are tools, and yet we treat them like living rooms. A pick up truck shouldn't have metallic paint ... it should be painted in truck bed liner, that rubbery spray-on, so you could drive through the brush and the bramble without worrying about it. If you're an especially bad driver, you could strap on something like the way tug boats tie old tires to their sides — some sort of extra bumper that could absorb door dings and then get replaced every couple of years for a lot cheaper than doing body work.
And why not crazy-glue some green plastic army men to the hood of your car, or clip a pinwheel to your antennae? I'm totally serious about this ... when oversized rims and spinner wheel covers were the rage, I really think hipster types would have bought a wheel cover that included a baseball car that would flitter along the spinning fake spokes. Or maybe, instead of a steering wheel, a steering high rise handle bar, as found on the banana-seat bike we all used to have.
Love it! Isn't this the same one Cheryl Unruh posted on her blog? I think you got more photos, and the song lyrics are a nice bonus.
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