Monday, October 25, 2010
Open Wheeled cars are the plunging neckline of the automotive world. Riskier than the alternative, Great looking in the mirror, and the fun really begins when they go out in public.
I love the curves on this car. It was an exquisitely executed dream, created, the sign says, by a man who lived only long enough to see it run. He died, leaving it to his widow, whose neighbor kindly finished the project and brought it along to the High Desert Swap Meet to sell. Whether it did is moot; what is important is the presence it brought.
You could lose yourself in the minute details under the hood; the no-nonsense dashboard, the era-perfect wire wheels.
But it's the curve of the body that's something so right. Organically flowing, each square centimeter knowing where next to be as the hand moves over it.
It started, it ran, it was like a dream that man shared with us all. Is it tragic that he died? Very likely; lives ending leave pain somewhere. But counter that with this indisputable triumph: He did it. He drew some sketches, he made some measurements, and he didn't stop to talk about it, he did it.
I fancy the word "someday" wasn't in his vocabulary.
If you don't share my twitterpation with the topographical undulations of this sensuous beauty, that's ok. But meditate upon the reality of this endeavor and balance that against all the barriers you have identified between you and an accomplishment long held and equally undone.
Let the neckline plunge. Something's gonna happen. Open that door and head out.