Dream Car

Dream Car

Saw this in a parking lot, and for a moment, it was so very appealing. Challenges? No garage. Gas round trip to Austin? Might get ten or twelve miles to the gallon? While I’m pretty sure it has a huge gas tank, 20 gallons? At three bucks a gallon for Premium?

Austin wouldn’t be as affordable.

Not that the question matters, it’s like an adolescent fantasy, shaped by endless cop-show reruns, a singular musical movie from a certain era, and all that time I spent, watching the rear-view, fearful of a shape, just like that car.


That one, exterior cosmetics? Leave it just the way it is: cop car white, basic industrial. Didn’t get much on the interior, as I peered in, but all I’d really want was some hook-up for an iPhone to charge and play through the speakers. Can’t think of anything else. Maybe a fresh set of heavy-duty tires. $4K. Insurance? Registration?

I’m too old for a project car, but for a brief, shining moment, little visions of me, gripping that steering wheel, staring out the windscreen, me wearing mirror aviator shades.

It’s some kind of para-military image, doesn’t fit with me at all. Except, of course, the mirror shades. I was wearing them when I saw the car. Cheap sunglasses, too.

Dream Car.

Endless fascination with “car culture,” and what it means. What makes that car so alluring to me?

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