approval to ride

Preserved Motion

I made my annual trek to the service station this morning for the Commonwealth's approval to drive my truck on their roads. At nearly 16 years old, she passed the state inspection with flying colors again. I never had any doubts, though it does call for celebration. It means we'll share more road stories, more journeys to nowhere destinations, more driving music with numerous mixes from all sorts of artists and musical genres, more get my head straight me time, more field trips for the pups and I with all the windows down, and more hours of sun filled days pampering and polishing.

As we both grow older, we tend to share quite a bit in common, at times almost mirroring the other. Our paint is bit duller than it use to be. There are even noticeable signs of chipping in certain areas. We stand a little wider, older, and not as trendy or hip as we once were. I wouldn't necessarily call any of these flaws. I think of them more as beauty marks and savored life experiences.

Whatever the case, I relate more today to Roger Taylor's lyrics to I'm in Love With My Car than when I first bought the rock elite A Night at the Opera album in 1975. Ironically, that same year I began taking driver's education classes. Seems only appropriate that I add the entire album to my next road trip.

a day to imagine

She's Seen Heaven

I was in my early 20s, sitting in my Oldsmobile on a blacktopped parking lot, listening to the radio, and savoring a few minutes before punching the time clock prior to my shift at the factory. Looking back, it seems fitting that a disc jockey would break the news to me. It was foreign. Shocking. Unthinkable.

I have no memory of what happened earlier on that day or leaving my shift at 7AM the following morning. But I do remember sitting in that parking lot on that cold dark night and crying when I heard that John Lennon had been killed. Imagine suddenly meant something bigger than it ever had before.

It’s thirty-one years later and I believe in that peace thing more than I ever have. Thank-you John.

threads of neverminds

The Neverminds

I added a sewing machine to my studio last week. It’s my new creative tool. I spent months researching numerous machines before finally committing to my Brother machine. A big thank-you to Angie at Little Voice for her great recommendations. Be sure to take a look at her wonderful creative work.

After purchasing my machine, it sat in the sealed box, in the middle of my office floor for two days before I finally opened it. Fear. Finally, hours into the late evening of day three and my rookiedom became overly ecstatic after spooling my very, VERY first bobbin.

My plan is to explore one of a kind non-traditional doll making. Yep, doll making, but not your sister's doll. My sketchbook already has several pages of designs, doodles, and ideas waiting for a little fabric and thread. The Neverminds are misfits. They dig late nights and love reading liner notes. They’re the culprits behind my new creative spin and each is made from recycled, discarded, "i don't want you anymore" clothing. They remind me of me.

I’ll be the first to admit that I have plenty to learn. I'm ready. The way I see it, with my diverse record collection and their loose threads, this new friendship may be the perfect calling for each of us.