Goodbye, Squirrel Crossing
Alas, it is no more! The creek re-channeling project that's been happening at the end of my road has totally destroyed Squirrel Crossing, the place where squirrels used to congregate on big boulders and watch the river and the road. It's so sad. The other day I was passing by and saw a squirrel running like a bat out of hell across the new 100-ft. wide, smooth, flat expanse of uniformly baseball-sized stones. He had to run, because once you're out on that kind of a broad open surface there is no place to hide -- your only hope is to make it all the way across and into your hole before anybody sees you.
Hopefully within the new few months the water will bring more huge boulders down the creek and create a new place for them to hang out.
In other news, I forgot to mention that on Sunday Mr. A and I went to look at a 1958 Rambler American some kid is selling cheap. I am not into cars in general, and especially not into "project cars," but for a couple of years in the late 90s I had a 1960 Rambler American, a two-door V8 automatic – white, with a nice interior and so much rust on the outside that I could stick my entire finger inside some of the holes ... I really loved that car!
I learned from it, too, that restoring a beat up old car is so expensive and time-consuming that you had best either appreciate the car exactly as it is, funky and rusty and all, or else be so deeply in love with the vision of your ideal that you actually enjoy pouring all of your available time and money into it. Otherwise you just end up neglecting the project and feeling guilty every time you look at it.
I took the first approach. I loved the dilapidated old-skool-ness of it and the fact that it looked not like the precious baby of some balding middle-aged classic car enthusiast, but like a regular plain old car that people had been using and enjoying for longer than I have been alive. The only reason I got rid of it was because it finally needed some expensive repairs I couldn't easily find parts for, and because I realized it would never be reliable enough to use on the 200+ mile round trip commute I was getting ready to take on in a new contract job.
The kid who has this '58 was excited, when he first got it, to restore it completely. He started by dismantling the entire interior and bondoing some of the rust, and was working on the electrical system when he ran out of steam and money. For the price he's asking, if it had been in halfway decent condition I probably would've bought it just for fun. But it's completely bare inside (down to the springs in the upholstery), and extremely noisy and rattly, and not as spacious or comfortable as my '60 was. I could see right away that the car I had was much nicer (except for the rust) than this one ever was, even when it was new.
It was fun to drive it, though. And I couldn't stop smiling at it – the car has a very friendly, sweet-looking rounded face. Here's a blue one.
Hopefully within the new few months the water will bring more huge boulders down the creek and create a new place for them to hang out.
In other news, I forgot to mention that on Sunday Mr. A and I went to look at a 1958 Rambler American some kid is selling cheap. I am not into cars in general, and especially not into "project cars," but for a couple of years in the late 90s I had a 1960 Rambler American, a two-door V8 automatic – white, with a nice interior and so much rust on the outside that I could stick my entire finger inside some of the holes ... I really loved that car!
I learned from it, too, that restoring a beat up old car is so expensive and time-consuming that you had best either appreciate the car exactly as it is, funky and rusty and all, or else be so deeply in love with the vision of your ideal that you actually enjoy pouring all of your available time and money into it. Otherwise you just end up neglecting the project and feeling guilty every time you look at it.
I took the first approach. I loved the dilapidated old-skool-ness of it and the fact that it looked not like the precious baby of some balding middle-aged classic car enthusiast, but like a regular plain old car that people had been using and enjoying for longer than I have been alive. The only reason I got rid of it was because it finally needed some expensive repairs I couldn't easily find parts for, and because I realized it would never be reliable enough to use on the 200+ mile round trip commute I was getting ready to take on in a new contract job.
The kid who has this '58 was excited, when he first got it, to restore it completely. He started by dismantling the entire interior and bondoing some of the rust, and was working on the electrical system when he ran out of steam and money. For the price he's asking, if it had been in halfway decent condition I probably would've bought it just for fun. But it's completely bare inside (down to the springs in the upholstery), and extremely noisy and rattly, and not as spacious or comfortable as my '60 was. I could see right away that the car I had was much nicer (except for the rust) than this one ever was, even when it was new.
It was fun to drive it, though. And I couldn't stop smiling at it – the car has a very friendly, sweet-looking rounded face. Here's a blue one.
1 Comments:
The car looks like something from a dream.
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