In the late 80's up until about 1991 I had my dads '79 Ford Fairmont wagon, a silver car he used daily in his commute to work to northern Virginia. By the time I received it the "Millennium Falcon" already had 200,000 miles on it. My car received this name from one of the many bands I was in, she was silver and it was difficult to hyper speed just like in the Star Wars saga. I was no Hans Solo even though I may have wished I was.
There was a point crossing the Chesapeake Bay Chunnel that I heard a sound. I looked down and there in the middle of the night was the freeway right under my feet. I could see it in a hole big enough to put a ham sandwich through. I was on tour with a reggae band called Jamallad at the time, we played from Delaware to Virginia, you know, beach towns. This car served me well, I am grateful for this jalopy.
I used to get into traffic on the highway and punch the gas, she'd sputter and I'd go from 0 to 60 in about 21 3/4 seconds. I would imagine myself justifying my sad car to other drivers zooming past me by scowling and saying "you drive my car for a day and see what it's like to be me!" Wow. The phrases of an insane man.
One morning I was picking up my friend Barry in Baltimore to go to Funkyard practice. I parked in front of his house and heard a new sound while parking (whenever I heard a new sound in my car I would also hear a game show host announcing "A NEW SOUND!!!!"). I went upstairs to Barrys apartment, he was on the 4th floor and while I waited for him to get ready I looked out the window. I could see this exhaust system behind my car. In my mind I said "hmmm, that must have been the new sound. I must have run over someone Else's exhaust system. Fucking slobs for not picking their own trash up!" So I went about my business.
About 6 months later I needed an emissions test. They stuck that piptic up my tailpipe and said "sir, you are aware that you have nothing connecting from your tailpipe to your engine right?" I stepped out and looked. Of course! That entire exhaust system was mine, all mine! My car was so noisy at this point I didn't even notice it being noisier without the muffler! Ah, the power of denial!
When I hear people complain about the state vehicle inspection I think of this story. It's to keep dangerous vehicles like the Millennium Falcon off the road. It was a rust bucket, couldn't go any faster than 55mph and had large parts falling off. I buried it at 275,000 miles.
I used to complain loudly in my mind every time I would see an rickety old pick up truck with junk all bundled up in the back, you know the type, the junk collector. I would get angry. I would be screaming "you're going to cause an accident!" But there was something so much deeper going on. When I lost my apartment in Los Angeles and was putting my boxes into storage for the 3rd time, I looked at those boxes and wondered what was in them. Some of these I hadn't opened in 20 years. I had carted them around Maryland, to Portland, to Los Angeles. I could feel my own insanity. In that moment I realized I am that guy in the rickety old pick up truck hauling crap around! The moment I realized that the hatred for those fellows vanished and I could love myself a little more, for a piece of my own self hatred vanished because I could no longer deny it it was a problem. I became the problem and treated it like my own child, giving it attention and sending the physical manifestation of it (the boxes) to the Goodwill. I don't even know what I gave away that day. It was 2 1/2 years ago and I don't miss any of it whatever it was!
It's not like I don't struggle with putting up with crap, I need to fix a head light and a tail light on my van, but I don't deny it's a problem any longer. Denial is a colossal waste of energy. Own it, heal it and move on. Denial was a peculiar way for me to be right when I was so clearly wrong! A great way to stay in conflict. It's madness.
Now I have a car to fix, best get to it! And a car to fix may be so much more than that! I love it!
There was a point crossing the Chesapeake Bay Chunnel that I heard a sound. I looked down and there in the middle of the night was the freeway right under my feet. I could see it in a hole big enough to put a ham sandwich through. I was on tour with a reggae band called Jamallad at the time, we played from Delaware to Virginia, you know, beach towns. This car served me well, I am grateful for this jalopy.
I used to get into traffic on the highway and punch the gas, she'd sputter and I'd go from 0 to 60 in about 21 3/4 seconds. I would imagine myself justifying my sad car to other drivers zooming past me by scowling and saying "you drive my car for a day and see what it's like to be me!" Wow. The phrases of an insane man.
One morning I was picking up my friend Barry in Baltimore to go to Funkyard practice. I parked in front of his house and heard a new sound while parking (whenever I heard a new sound in my car I would also hear a game show host announcing "A NEW SOUND!!!!"). I went upstairs to Barrys apartment, he was on the 4th floor and while I waited for him to get ready I looked out the window. I could see this exhaust system behind my car. In my mind I said "hmmm, that must have been the new sound. I must have run over someone Else's exhaust system. Fucking slobs for not picking their own trash up!" So I went about my business.
About 6 months later I needed an emissions test. They stuck that piptic up my tailpipe and said "sir, you are aware that you have nothing connecting from your tailpipe to your engine right?" I stepped out and looked. Of course! That entire exhaust system was mine, all mine! My car was so noisy at this point I didn't even notice it being noisier without the muffler! Ah, the power of denial!
When I hear people complain about the state vehicle inspection I think of this story. It's to keep dangerous vehicles like the Millennium Falcon off the road. It was a rust bucket, couldn't go any faster than 55mph and had large parts falling off. I buried it at 275,000 miles.
I used to complain loudly in my mind every time I would see an rickety old pick up truck with junk all bundled up in the back, you know the type, the junk collector. I would get angry. I would be screaming "you're going to cause an accident!" But there was something so much deeper going on. When I lost my apartment in Los Angeles and was putting my boxes into storage for the 3rd time, I looked at those boxes and wondered what was in them. Some of these I hadn't opened in 20 years. I had carted them around Maryland, to Portland, to Los Angeles. I could feel my own insanity. In that moment I realized I am that guy in the rickety old pick up truck hauling crap around! The moment I realized that the hatred for those fellows vanished and I could love myself a little more, for a piece of my own self hatred vanished because I could no longer deny it it was a problem. I became the problem and treated it like my own child, giving it attention and sending the physical manifestation of it (the boxes) to the Goodwill. I don't even know what I gave away that day. It was 2 1/2 years ago and I don't miss any of it whatever it was!
It's not like I don't struggle with putting up with crap, I need to fix a head light and a tail light on my van, but I don't deny it's a problem any longer. Denial is a colossal waste of energy. Own it, heal it and move on. Denial was a peculiar way for me to be right when I was so clearly wrong! A great way to stay in conflict. It's madness.
Now I have a car to fix, best get to it! And a car to fix may be so much more than that! I love it!
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