I think that girl in Peyton place said it best(the original movie, none of the shenanigans that followed)... I don't go to school for writing because I already know how to write". I write in a stream of consciousness, And I appreciate the same when I read. Maybe that is why I have read miles more of wiring diagrams than sentences in novels. I dont like the rules. This is my journey to take you on good or bad, so sit right back and ill tell you a tale.
Through a chain of events that I interpret to be very positive, I have found myself back at the helm of an American Rear wheel drive V8. Most will mock me for being "old" and make jokes of casino runs and handicap parking. But there is a reason why other than the affordmentioned. These cars stir my soul. Not to be confused with a previous Korean car that shall remain nameless. I connect with them. Only one other form of transportation does this and it requires lots of water and deep pockets.
Around town parking is a slight nuisance, the gas station is more of an event than a pit stop sometimes, but it is worth it. When you find the interstate and let this creature roam it embraces you with solitude. it shields you from all the white noise of the world. It is that broken in leather sofa that greets you after a long day and wraps its itself around you like a mother should. Driving through the Utah desert and having the rd rock and blue sky's reflection wash over the hood and reflected into you. All I can hear is the faint symphony of machine verses the pavement and the whispers of the plastic and leather having a tug o war in the background.
I have sampled the wears of from around the globe, and each one has its own character. Some are all machine with no soul that tirelessly serve, making no imprint on their pilot. Others are all personality and devoid of a work ethic, battling you every time you call on them. This friend I see in my life for longer than I saw the rest. I see her as gift to cherish. Maybe I'll give her a name...
Through a chain of events that I interpret to be very positive, I have found myself back at the helm of an American Rear wheel drive V8. Most will mock me for being "old" and make jokes of casino runs and handicap parking. But there is a reason why other than the affordmentioned. These cars stir my soul. Not to be confused with a previous Korean car that shall remain nameless. I connect with them. Only one other form of transportation does this and it requires lots of water and deep pockets.
Around town parking is a slight nuisance, the gas station is more of an event than a pit stop sometimes, but it is worth it. When you find the interstate and let this creature roam it embraces you with solitude. it shields you from all the white noise of the world. It is that broken in leather sofa that greets you after a long day and wraps its itself around you like a mother should. Driving through the Utah desert and having the rd rock and blue sky's reflection wash over the hood and reflected into you. All I can hear is the faint symphony of machine verses the pavement and the whispers of the plastic and leather having a tug o war in the background.
I have sampled the wears of from around the globe, and each one has its own character. Some are all machine with no soul that tirelessly serve, making no imprint on their pilot. Others are all personality and devoid of a work ethic, battling you every time you call on them. This friend I see in my life for longer than I saw the rest. I see her as gift to cherish. Maybe I'll give her a name...
Janet
