Category Archives: Cars

RED!!!! A Red Convertible


I’m collecting RED today, so let’s see your Red posting.. please put a link in my comments so others can see it as well.

A Red Convertible


The red convertible was made redder by the man in it.  He was incredibly pale. Blonde hair, flaxen skin, white shirt, pale arms. His eyes were moonstones, his smile cold as that moon. Why he would choose a car that showed him off to such disadvantage was hard at first to discern, but in time she came to understand it. That car accented his differentness. It made him a curiosity one wanted to encounter in order to examine it, and when you drew near enough to examine it, to converse with him and see his manner, hear his mind, you were captured. The trap snapped shut.

His mind, like his car, was anything but pale.  Once his mouth opened, he burst open like a Christmas piñata.  He snapped. He tumbled. Each word was a tiny gift that no one but you knew you wanted. He was surprise after surprise. A bit of everything, each thing intended to gift you, surprise you, capture you. The man was like a crazy gift wrapped up in white paper and string.

That red convertible, initially a contrast, became a perfect replication of the man who drove it. It took you off to adventures you could never dream of. Like the man himself.  Like his mind.

Many years later, years during which I have come to know the man well and to meet others who know him, I have learned that with every person, the trip was different.  When I stepped into the red convertible, it sped me off to a world in which anything was possible.  We drove off to galleries where one day I myself would hang. We drove to little inns that would become my solace, to crazy stores that would be my mood-lifters, to the houses of his friends who would become my friends. We would stop at roadside stands that had exactly what I needed, although I hadn’t known it before. We would drive with the top down, wasting music to road behind us that was like music made expressly for me that I’d never heard before. Those trips into the unknown were trips into parts of myself I didn’t even know were there. Parts I had visited only in dreams. Parts that opened me up like a flower and seeded further growth. That red convertible, long after it had been retired to grand seclusion in a corner of a garage that held many cars—one for each person his life drove him to—still exists in my mind, and every day, it propels me on to the weird and unexpected. Drives me on to who I am and who I will be.

Sunday Stills: Something #Red

Racing Man

Version 6                                                                jdbphoto

Racing Man

I’ve parked you in my dreams
where you sit sputtering,
engine racing,
ready to be off
over the next hill.
As always,
reaching to release the parking brake,
adjusting the seat back,
never noticing the rear-vision mirror
is slightly off-kilter.


Big Beast, Little Brat!!!

img_5383The car on the left was the one I requested.  The car on the right was the one I got!!!!

When I was still trying to make it up to the Cabot trail in Nova Scotia in the black beast pictured above, I stopped at a big red barn restaurant—the only place close to the motel where I stayed for the night.  The meal was not memorable and was accompanied by the agony of a girl child in the next booth who SCREAMED in a high shrill voice for at least half of the time to the accompaniment of a mother who occasionally ineffectively tried to shush her.  It occurred to me that I could move, but at that point she started running up and down the length of the restaurant, piping “Ring around the rosy” in her irritatingly shrill and LOUD voice. Since I hesitated to turn to fix her with my own shaming glare, I  never laid eyes on her until they finally left half way through my meal. By her behavior, I had thought she must be three or so,  but was amazed to see when they finally left that she was more like five or six.

It was an incredible relief until another man came in with what looked like the same child. They blessedly sat a few booths beyond me as she seemed to  possess the same voice and irritating behavior.  At least, however, she stayed in her own booth—a bit further from my unappreciative ear than the last child.  The meal was forgettable.  The experience wasn’t. But, when I left, I at least snapped this photo which illustrates well the difference between the car I wanted and the gas-guzzling technologically puzzling beast that Hertz actually issued me.  We parted company last night. Such a relief to hand it back to its rightful owners.