before waking, i was in the middle of a dream.
i was with dawn rhodes, my elementary school best friend. we were driving around a mix between lethbridge and calgary looking for her friend. we were driving around in my dad's 1969 chevy impala.
i dont have a lot of memories of that car, other than it being dark blue and 2 doors. he loved that thing. he nicknamed it "the bearcat" for god only knows what reason. there are pictures of me in front of it from my childhood. i think he parked it on our property in herronton for many years until we were supposed to move to mazeppa and he didnt want to tow it there and then sold it. i'm sure it was rebuilt and some farmer's kid drove that thing around guzzling gas and belching exhaust all over southern alberta.
come to think of it, we always seemed to have one vehicle or the other parked on our property. tacky. once dad got the topaz, we parked the satellite sebring on our lawn in barons. funny how these things are forgotten and remembered in dreams.
i have always hated old cars. yes, they are nice to look at occasionally, but sitting in them totally skeeves me out. my skin crawls. i remember sitting in my grandma's t-bird and grandpa's grey pontiac and being skeeved out completely by the torn seats. even that smell, the old sunbaked smell of cloth and car interior makes me gag a bit. i dont know what it is that i'm afraid of per se, but you wont catch me sitting in an old auto.
no, i'm not a snob that insists on something from this decade only. i just get grossed out thinking about cars which have been parked for years on a lot that someone finally thinks are ok to salvage and do things with. i think it's the initial find, the potential of mice, the dust, the history that makes me feel queasy.
i know fears are irrational and mine definitely is.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
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before waking, i was in the middle of a dream.
i was with dawn rhodes, my elementary school best friend. we were driving around a mix between lethbridge and calgary looking for her friend. we were driving around in my dad's 1969 chevy impala.
i dont have a lot of memories of that car, other than it being dark blue and 2 doors. he loved that thing. he nicknamed it "the bearcat" for god only knows what reason. there are pictures of me in front of it from my childhood. i think he parked it on our property in herronton for many years until we were supposed to move to mazeppa and he didnt want to tow it there and then sold it. i'm sure it was rebuilt and some farmer's kid drove that thing around guzzling gas and belching exhaust all over southern alberta.
come to think of it, we always seemed to have one vehicle or the other parked on our property. tacky. once dad got the topaz, we parked the satellite sebring on our lawn in barons. funny how these things are forgotten and remembered in dreams.
i have always hated old cars. yes, they are nice to look at occasionally, but sitting in them totally skeeves me out. my skin crawls. i remember sitting in my grandma's t-bird and grandpa's grey pontiac and being skeeved out completely by the torn seats. even that smell, the old sunbaked smell of cloth and car interior makes me gag a bit. i dont know what it is that i'm afraid of per se, but you wont catch me sitting in an old auto.
no, i'm not a snob that insists on something from this decade only. i just get grossed out thinking about cars which have been parked for years on a lot that someone finally thinks are ok to salvage and do things with. i think it's the initial find, the potential of mice, the dust, the history that makes me feel queasy.
i know fears are irrational and mine definitely is.
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