We went to a fair recently and they had some old cars on display. The one was a Model T 1909 that had never been restored. I wish I had a picture of it but when we travel across the border we don't bring our phones.
So I thought I'd go into detail about what it looked like, but each image locked in my mind is actually not of the car. Weird, but as I stood beside it, the stories seemed to come off the worn fabric in micro flakes that sparked life in my imagination.
It was in bad shape, but yet good shape... for its age and for the journey it took.
As I looked in the front seat at the worn fabric and the wood pieces on the floor, I saw a couple riding it. Snuggled in tight. She sighed against him and he had a strange smile that says life won't get better than this moment.
The one door was open and ripped so I could see exactly how it was built. But what I saw was a man holding out his hand and a girl giggling, biting her bottom lip, and then almost jumping into his arms.
The backseat was red, I remember that much, mostly because I saw a woman clutching her purse against her, her jaw tight, her hair in a bun as she stared straight ahead, nervous. She wore a blue coat, not sure that matters, but the buttons are big and black. One doesn't match because she had to stitch it on this morning and well... now she's late. Her gloves are black and one's crooked, not sure anyone will notice this but me.
And then the lanterns for headlights fastened to wood caught my attention. I could see a tall skinny guy trying to light the headlights and I had to hold my breath, because that couldn't be safe at all...
It was hard to leave it with all these haunting images. This car had so many stories to share.
Ever find something that the history just oozes off, haunting you with details that you had no idea existed?
So I thought I'd go into detail about what it looked like, but each image locked in my mind is actually not of the car. Weird, but as I stood beside it, the stories seemed to come off the worn fabric in micro flakes that sparked life in my imagination.
It was in bad shape, but yet good shape... for its age and for the journey it took.
As I looked in the front seat at the worn fabric and the wood pieces on the floor, I saw a couple riding it. Snuggled in tight. She sighed against him and he had a strange smile that says life won't get better than this moment.
The one door was open and ripped so I could see exactly how it was built. But what I saw was a man holding out his hand and a girl giggling, biting her bottom lip, and then almost jumping into his arms.
The backseat was red, I remember that much, mostly because I saw a woman clutching her purse against her, her jaw tight, her hair in a bun as she stared straight ahead, nervous. She wore a blue coat, not sure that matters, but the buttons are big and black. One doesn't match because she had to stitch it on this morning and well... now she's late. Her gloves are black and one's crooked, not sure anyone will notice this but me.
And then the lanterns for headlights fastened to wood caught my attention. I could see a tall skinny guy trying to light the headlights and I had to hold my breath, because that couldn't be safe at all...
It was hard to leave it with all these haunting images. This car had so many stories to share.
Ever find something that the history just oozes off, haunting you with details that you had no idea existed?
4 comments:
Love your word choices in this and the images you put in my head: micro flakes, oozing stories, the crooked glove, etc.
Nice!
-V
Wow, Tanya, you have to write that story! I'l be watching for it!
Yes, I've had that experience many times. Sometimes the visions find a way into my stories. Sometimes they jump start (pun intended) a story.
That's cool how the images just appear in your head.
Is your writing more character driven than plot? Just wondering cause it's like that's what you're seeing. Not all the trips the car went on. But who was in it.
Post a Comment