- Engines.
- Kelli, your observation (wherever it was … Steph’s music post, maybe?) has been bouncing around my brain for weeks.
- OMG I love the sound of a finely-tuned growly motor.
- That deep rumble soothes my soul in a similar but different way as waves crashing onto a beach.
- A rumbly V-8?
- Hells yeah.
- Gender difference?
- Generational difference, too?
- Kids these days aren’t growing up with motors that audibly (and sometimes physically) shake the earth.
- Mark and I went to lunch before the surgery, and I got to ride in his monstrous V-8 1990 Chevy truck.
- Religious experience.
- I miss it so much.
- I would become a lab experiment for the Mayo to own a muscle car again.
- Oh, wait …
- My email has a plethora of newsletters from those dudes who sell raffle tickets to their latest restored muscle car or Porsche or whatever.
- That’s been something I’ve struggled not to get neck deep in.
- “Yes, I want that restored 1968 Chevelle with an entirely upgraded motor and twin turbos.”
- And then I drool on my keyboard for like 15 minutes reading the specs.
- My car can fuck itself.
- Currently.
- And I love that car, but the last three months … gfy, WRX.
- At least back in the V-8 days, I could kinda work on it myself.
- When I open the hood of the Subaru, it’s like, “Yup, that’s a motor. Pretty sure.”
- You know why I love it?
- Three reasons.
- 1) It’s black, tires to roof.
- 2) Six-speed manual transmission.
- 3) It rumbles.
- It isn’t fast, not really.
- But it’ll be with me for a long time now.
- Which is fine.
- I debate teaching Kaia to drive it.
- She hates driving as it is.
- Throw the manual transmission in there …
- She might destroy it.
- And our sanity.
- This one’s definitely a generational thing.
- I knew how to drive by the time I was like … 11.
- I wanted to drive.
- I loved to drive.
- Kaia and a lot of her generation, from what I understand, do not give a F about driving.
- Don’t like it.
- Don’t want to.
- Blaming social media again here.
- Way easier to self-isolate.
- I mean, hell, Pryor and I stole my mom’s station wagon when we were 15-and-a-half, drove to Prattville, got pizza, and drove home.
- (Sorry, Mom!)
- Yes, I drug my feet a little getting my DL.
- But once I did …
- And the gang was all-in on muscle cars.
- I had the ’67 Camaro.
- Mark had an assortment of cars, including a ’69 Camaro that was scary to ride in.
- We (the gang) also had a ‘65 LeMans, a ’71 Camaro, and a Ford Galaxy (60-something; the years are hazy to my mangled brains).
- Rumbles as far as the eye could see.
- (Not the Galaxy; it was the group slow-poke. Looked pretty, though.)
- Loved all those cars.
- If I won the lottery …
- Cars.
- I’d have like four or five.
- Not like Jay Leno or anything.
- Though I’d hate driving them in Tulsa, soooooo.
- Cars and beach vacations.
- And school for the rest of my life.
- And helping people.
- Maybe teaching.
- I have a master’s degree; teaching communications at a community college would be fucking amazing.
- What else you going to do with that thing?
- That’s the plan, lottery or not.
- Except now it would probably be teaching AI prompts, the newest way to mass control group thought!
- We’re living in the sci-fi future, only it lacks style because of corporate profit drive.
- Too many non-creatives steering the ship.
- About that beach vacation …
- (Coming back around again …)
- My beach thing is Steph’s fault.
- (Yeah, hell with it. I’m going with names.)
- I did not really grow up with vacations.
- I always thought they needed to be to a city or Six Flags or something.
- Never would’ve put a beach on the list.
- Now?
- I’d prefer almost only beaches, and ones accessed through all-inclusive resorts.
- Because I want to go sit, sip a drink, listen to the ocean, and fantasize about pirates.
- No, really.
- Though colder beaches are fine, too.
- There’s been nothing calmer in my life, except for a Xanax, than a beach.
- I can’t really put it into words.
- I would live in a shack and sell t-shirts to be on a beach.
- Maybe that’s the actual plan.
- If I had a plan …
- Dreams aren’t plans.
- A chasm exists between the two.
- Any tips on building that bridge are appreciated.
- In one of my group texts this morning, someone posted a picture of a beer … from his vacation in Greece.
- It also featured a phallus-shaped bottle opener, because virility is a thing in Greece?
- Imma pass on the opener, but that beer looked delicious.
- So.
- Drink one for me this weekend, okay?
- If you have more than one, well, that’s on you.
- High five. Let’s move the ball … into a pocket full of sunshine.
Radical Cam, Bro
Comments
2 responses to “Radical Cam, Bro”
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I’m a chic and that low rumbly muscle car sound…also soothes my soul. Always has! My very favorite sound (and sight, for that matter) is the Blue Angels. They used to fly right over the top of the building I worked in when I lived in Texas. One time, the maintenance guy snuck me up to the roof to experience it. Man, that screaming fast fly-by at a million decibels…almost nothing better than that!
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Can totally relate to Kaia’s driving anxiety! When I first got to WI, I had no car for the first seven years (this town is small and it’s easy to walk, Uber, catch rides, etc.).
When I finally got a car, I was visibly shaking after my first drive six blocks to the grocery store. lol
I have always had mega driving anxiety, especially when other people are in the car with me.
It gets better every time I drive. Exposure therapy.
Sometimes I have to force myself just to get out and drive. Music turns it into a spiritual experience! I finally LOVE driving, but it took constant forcing myself to do it, and using something special as positive reinforcement: music.
All that to say: You’re not alone Kaia! I’m 53 years old and CAN RELATE! (Sometimes I feel like I’m part Zoomer, part Gen-Xer, I swear). 👀
skepticlysm 
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