So being that I take The SlaveBox Express (aka public transportation) to work everyday, I walk a few blocks between bus stop and destination and therefore get to see…and notice…things that those speeding around in cars might not. While you’re hurling along down the asphalt, rummaging in your purse on the passenger seat, illegally texting novellas to clients/friends/bosses/family and risking life and limb (and fines and lawsuits), I’m getting a tad bit of exercise, earbuds firmly set, a new-favorite-band-discovered-recently blaring from my iPod…and perusing my city. Looking at nothing. Looking at everything. Searching for color, line, shadow, glare and texture.

Today was no exception. The little green walking man in the walk-don’t-walk sign blinks on, my Dr Martens leave the curb, I glare at the aging bimbo in the Stupid Ugly Vehicle (SUV) who almost “forgot” that the red light means that she actually must stop…preferably BEFORE entering the crosswalk portion of the road. I reach the far side curb, begin my decent down a sidewalk with an incline to rival any in San Francisco…hell, it could well double as a certain piece of playground equipment it’s so steep…and, lo and behold, there she was: A 1961 Mercury Comet 2-door coupe…with an obviously very adequate parking brake…just sitting there on the cobblestones.

Now, this sweet vehicle really deserves a better mommy/daddy…because sweetie needs a bath, as well as some extensive work on her interior. A little minor exterior sprucing up would be nice too. That all said…I want her.

Isn’t that ironic? Put me behind the wheel with my little driving gloves, Jackie-O sunglasses, floaty headscarf and deep red lipstick slathered on my pouty-snarly lips and…oh! I’d suddenly be in with you lot, zipping around the city not noticing anything anymore wouldn’t I?

Huh.

And therein lies the dilemma.

But ain’t she COOOOL?? I would be SO bad-ass in her. sigh

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