Suggesting old daytime TV Roman toga movies this pharaonic pose high in the seat; elbow protruding; highest disdain. Something too like a celebrity under the gaze of paparazzi another gent in his mid-range, well-maintained and polished model, radio’s steadying whisper audible within.
Rear-view on the freeway giving the uneasy sense of crazed chase, five-six lanes all the more so. Years of TV pursuit— afoot, horseback, cars racing along LA highways.
Lingering cop or ambo sirens audible miles afterward, like smoke from burning ruins. Miles and miles and many streets behind.
The 6s or 8s when they're lowered ride not much more than arm's length from the bitumen, beefy lads hanging out, sometimes with fag ends that make you look for the moment of flicking. Other times they merely rattle the cage, thumping against the side.
Often too without musical accompaniment, the arm hanging limply, trailing for air.
Freedom. Something. Unfulfilled. Often only haring it once they are on the straight.
Compulsive scanning of the abbreviations in the number plates, as if seeking hints lost in a maze. All the signage, logos, stickers. Interpretations lacking.
Side-view bent at the wrong angle, the white line unreeling from its spool slipping under the wheels, confirming the passage the bigger picture fails to convey.
The fixation will never be relinquished by democratic means, just like in the States the right to bear arms.
2.
Cool wintry mornings the reflected heat gives a brief charge—like coming indoors from the cold and reaching for the logs in the grate. Pleasurable hit; mainlining serotonin. Sometimes when it’s a B double you get the first blast and then bask in the expectation of the following. Painted steel was ineffective, the same as tarpaulin or plastic-coating. Impossible to anticipate, on each occasion the blessing comes anew. The first few times it happens on especially cold days the confusion momentarily overwhelms.
3.
Case of brake failure on the freeways the dividers were the first resort, scraping along on the passenger side, tearing steel slowing and perhaps puncturing a tyre. A medium/light vehicle in front for the final halt, if time permitted.
In the wet roll the window down a fraction for proper notice of the speed.
The truck canyons on the freeways and around the port exited ASAP; blind spots in the mirrors avoided like the devil.
Annoyance with other drivers was noticeably curbed of late, use of the horn especially. Possibly due to the virus.
The childish instinct to display exemplary motoring was still difficult to curb; that and the attempt to win pretty girls behind the wheel with elegant gestures and gallantry.
Early November in a mild Spring immediately after Cup Day, the hands, elbows & trailing arms appeared outside driver's window. (Sometimes passengers joining on their side.) Relishing the end of lockdown.
Always a matter of frustration for an accomplished, courteous driver who mostly kept within the rules not being recognised or rewarded. Radio shows once upon a time conducted competitions where listeners would nominate examples.
NB. Segments of this piece date from 2009-10; they have been augmented recently during the recent return to motoring down in Melbourne. Living without a motor car had been another benefit on the Equator.
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