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  • the name of Shira's car, a blue boxy American model, which she purchased in the Philadelphia area just prior to moving to Big Fun. The dealer's windshield writing is still there, with the words "Cheap Wheels" followed by its price, $1095.
  • A railroad car of a specified kind
  • (car) the compartment that is suspended from an airship and that carries personnel and the cargo and the power plant
  • (car) a motor vehicle with four wheels; usually propelled by an internal combustion engine; "he needs a car to get to work"
  • (car) a wheeled vehicle adapted to the rails of railroad; "three cars had jumped the rails"
  • A road vehicle, typically with four wheels, powered by an internal combustion engine and able to carry a small number of people
  • A vehicle that runs on rails, esp. a railroad car

The new car
The new car
This is my new to me! It's a 1988 Nissan maxima, and it's an incredible car. I bought it at an auto autction, one of the most gut-wrenching things you can possibly go through. With a flick of the wrist, you've just commited bunches of money to a car you can't even drive! I had gone to one other auction on Tuesday, the one on Admiral and Memorial. When I went in, I had to put up $200 as a deposit and sign a few things. Not so bad. Then I approached the auction garages. As I came inside, I heard the auctioneers, or rather heard the jibber-jabber sounds their orfices belted out. Thousand-hummana-hummana-canigettahummunahummuna. I got worried. Am I going to understand any of this crap? Will I accidentally buy a hummanahummana with a sratch of my nose? Fortunately, like any deep immersion, I began to understand the rich, complex language before me. I ended up making one bid, but at the end it didn't meet the mandatory minimum...which ended up being a good thing! The vehicle was ok and all, but I bid $750 on a Tracker. The main reason for visiting the auction was that I needed a replacement for my little Pepe, the Snowmobile 2. Time and travel had finally cought up with it. For the last month, it had started backfiring violently! Ans it wouldn't idle at all. Bad carborator and timing issues. I got an estimate that it would cost over $300 to get it fixed. I thought about that. The seats don't recline; I had to unbolt the seats when Jes and I wanted to sleep on our six month road trip. The muffler was a shambles; everyone in every neighborhood around town waking was up and cursing the heavens on my approach. Thanks to other problems, I was pulling less than ten miles per gallon! In that tiny little dust kicker! The straw that broke me was when I ran out of gas after going 147 miles from a FULL tank. My stress levels had been in heaven ever since, which isn't a good thing. The car I ended up getting... On the tuesday auction I saw the car I would be buying the next saturday. I had an interest in it, but other bidders had taken it over a thousand dollars, which didn't meet the minimum bid for the seller that day. Lucky me! I only had $750 for buying, by the way. The next Saturday, I went down to the auction in Mom's car with Jes. Howard met up with us. We scanned around the lot, and saw some options. I was looking for a very fuel-efficient car with no big problems. I didn't want any kind of knock and I wanted the windows to work. Or an American car. Fords and Chevys can go to those other Dale Earnhardt fans...I kid! The Nissan wasn't actually anywhere on the lot earlier in the day. It was a late arrival, one of the last vehicles for the day. Also before the car was up for bid, two big-old trucks had left plumes of exhaust in the building. Nearly everyone had left. So the car comes inside and the hummanahummaner starts up with the bidding at $1500. 'No takers. No one at all. 1000. OK I' start low at $400...' I realize how stupid I'd be if I didn't bid on a car that good and that cheap. I look at Howard and say, 'Should I bid on this?' This is the moment of no return. I raise up my hand, with a four showing. '$400 hummana-can I get a five-hummana? Five hundred! Hummanahummana-Can I get Six?' I look over to my right and see a large man with a large beard. Bidding on MY car! But still, I play it cool. In my mind, everything has slowed down. I'm John Woo. A dove flies very slowly somewhere. I raise my fingers in an inch sign. A man to my right yells 'Hap!' 'Five fifty hummana hummana can I get a six hummana hummana? Six hummana! Can I get a seven!?' We're going too rich for my blood. I don't think I'll take that. I shake my head. But I keep my eyes on the fellow to 'hop' guy moments ago. The auctioneer starts up at me. 'Do I get a six fifty hummana hummana? It's got new tires hummana? Six twenty-five? Come on! You started it!' I did indeed. I put my fingers on my chin, taking a dramatic pause. All eyes on me. I feel like the guy with the beard will probably outbid me, so I take the chance. I nod. 'Six Twenty-fivehummana hummana....! For just a moment my mind goies away from the spot I'm standing in. I hear words and all the people are swirling around me. I actually am not prepared to bid anymore, so I look at the bearded guy and waggle my head at him, smiling a big grin. I feel like he outbid me, and I've lost. I begin to turn and walk away, defeated. I'm crazy. In all the swirling sounds, the auctioneer has sold me the Nissan Maxima, no minumim bid. No big guy with the big beard. Just me and my car! Howard is the one that wakes me out of my stupor, and walks me over to the staging area where the hummanahummana voice came from. I look for Jes and I sign the papers and we walk over to the office, all together and in shock. I can't believe what I've done. I lowballed and won! Haha. Hahahaha! King of the world! I give the rest of the money for the car, sign some more papers and we start up t
Norwegian Maple Autumn Fire Wheel
Norwegian Maple Autumn Fire Wheel
I've got a thing... I've got a thing about my rear windscreen wiper... You see, it only has two settings... On... Or off... This really bothers me... In my old car it used to be intermittent... Swish... Wait... Swish... That's how I want it... But in my new car it does too much... Swish, swash, swish, swash, swish, swash, swish, swash, swish, swash... It is very distracting. So much so I can't concentrate on the traffic in front. All I can do is look at it swish-swashing in the rear view mirror. You see, I'm worried about wearing it out. I'm not going to get my full entitlement of swishes, let alone swashes. Mostly we consider ourselves to be logical, rational creatures and yet we are surrounded by the evidence of our neuroses, contrariness and irrationality. Why will I quibble about something cheap being twenty pence too expensive? When I will happily waste one hundred times that amount on something I don't need. We all know it's better to take the long way round a traffic jam, even if it takes longer, as at least you feel like you are achieving something when you are moving forward in some way towards your destination. I'm quite happy to switch on my front windscreen wipers whenever it looks even slightly cloudy on the horizon, sometimes putting them on super-fast just for the hell of it. But their less able and incapable rear window cousins couldn't deal with such abuse and I worry how they'll not cope with their current workload. So just what am I banging on about? I guess it's something to do with the direction I want to take my life in. I hope to shed off the assumed, the incorrect, the downright delusional. I want to replace the false and blinkered and harmful with something more succinct, more truthful and more accurate. Don't we all... The question is "how to separate one from the other?" I suspect I need to answer that question before all others. Perhaps that's where art comes in? Note to self... If you want to search for answers, through art and through living a life. Then perhaps it would be a good idea to do some and make more of your life whilst you're living it. Note to self... Stop making excuses that you're working too much, or uninspired or plainly can't be bothered. It won't happen unless you invest the time and stop worrying about whether there's a point. After all there isn't a point until you make one and even then one may not materialise. But what is certainly true:- You can guarantee there will be no answers if you give up asking questions altogether... Swish-swash, swish-swash, swish-swash... I made this sculpture almost exactly a year ago. A few days past I went along to the tree I gathered the leaves from and it is producing the same colours as back then. But I'm having trouble reconnecting with nature just because I haven't put in the effort to create as much this year (see excuses above). The disconnected feeling breeds discontent and the solace I seek from that connection being missing makes me feel a little adrift. There are other trees from which I gathered leaves last autumn that have not put on the same show this year. Some crab apples nearby, were ablaze with hundreds of hues and yet this year only managed green, yellow and brown. But it's not enough to notice this whilst passing, it's time to become more wholeheartedly involved. It seems I'm the one who hasn't been listening. Many times I've said land art is all about the process, the doing, the feeling, the seeing. And it's high time I tried to remember that as autumn will be over all too soon. A life lesson about fleeting existence, the transience and flux of all there is. If you don't take the time to stop and listen then that moment is not grasped but gone forever. Note to self...

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