March 14th, 2003

Devil May Cry

(no subject)

Lastly, when I went back out to the car to get a bag I'd left in the back seat, I noticed a stream of green liquid trailing into the gutter from about midway across the very front of my car. I've been having a problem with coolant since the big snowstorm, but I wasn't sure if there was a leak, or if it was just tearing through it for some other reason. Just burning it up. I guess I should bring it to a mechanic to find out what I can do.
  • Current Music
    Boyd Rice - Disneyland Can Wait
Wizsock

"Rot in Pieces", Uh, that's great.

A large pickup truck, covered in stickers from the bumper to the bed from all angles. I've seen it three times now. The first two, a redhead was driving. Not like my red. Red like the color that emanates from the bottom of a laser mouse. She looks, from my back of the head and halfway over the shoulder vantage point, sorta like people I know. But not anyone I know. I don't absorb any of the stickers separately. Some radio stations.. some slogans.. some bands.. motley. Each time I see it I brim with envy. I see it as an alien.. but one I've seen, know, feel. At a distance. The third time, it was parked on the other side of the street from the Emomobile, not quite home but not far off. A little between me and my car. As I passed by, eyes lingering as I dream on, I notice for the first time, the front license plate slot is lined by a Pabst Blue Ribbon frame, and the faux-plate itself says PBR Rules, or PBR Rocks, or something like that. One more coffin nail. I wonder WTF it's doing there, so close to me, but I notice half-down the block an overflowing recycling bin full of bottles, surrounded by beer case boxes also full of empties. Not quite "That's my fuckin' car", but.. I figure it's likely, possible, something. I'm not quite brave enough to leave an "I love your truck" note, as I have on other vehicles in the past.

I think earlier I had a segue from this to the Tiburon incident. Whatever it was, I've forgotten.

Some time last summer. That's not long ago, is it? Not too long? With my windows down cruising through Cherry Hill traffic, from the right I hear Turn the Page. Not the Metallica version, the only one I'm accustomed to, but the original. I start peering into the car, at it's driver, wondering about her. (It seems petty and selfish, in retrospect, to be curious about someone simply because they play a song I like.) The sound is so clear I assume it's a cd as opposed to the radio. The car, a curvy, deep blue Tiburon. So unlike the matte grey straight lines of my vehicle. Crowded lanes keep us close as I hit the scan button on my radio, and the song comes on. Of course, one of the classic rock stations. I raise my windows as I turn it up, just slightly, to avoid seeming invasive of the other driver's privacy. Not wanting them to think I'm trying to communicate. Really, why would I? But maybe some other me would.. I don't know. Shyly I close my car up, still looking, still wondering.


I would love to own that pickup truck.
  • Current Music
    your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do