I grew up in a culture of cars. Never got sucked in and just don't get it at all. But I can't bite the hand that fed me too much. There was ONE car I loved even if I didn't know the brand/make. On my grandparents farm in mid Michigan, out in a field back behind the chicken coops, was an old, rusty, seen-better-days car. I assume it was from the 1940's based on the movies I have seen. My little brother Boo would always make a bee line to that car whenever we went to Maple Grove. My grandparents had lived on that farm since just after the turn of the century. It's still there (the farm) but in very bad condition and full of car parts and other junk.
Whenever it was time for dinner, we knew where Boo would be. He got to this car and imagined himself into another time, another country, maybe even into a life where he could walk and run just like the rest of us. I often became his partner in dreams as we wiled away the summer days and froze our rears off in the Michigan winters. Dinner could wait as it was usually something sorta gross from the pressure cooker. If we really got hungry, I would go back inside and make us sugar sammiches on Wonder Bread.
I ofter wonder if the car is buried behind the long abandoned coops, deep in mud like we were deep in dreams. I usually thought of the car as a space ship to some far away galaxy, while Boo tooled himself down dirt roads looking for a place to watch minnows in shallow rivers that were the lifelines for huge spreads of corn and sunflowers.
I miss my Boo, who left me behind as a newlywed, only a month after I eloped. He never got to know his new brother in law. I think they would have been great friends. Every time I see a car show at some diner or parking lot, I look for that one special old green car with the torn tan seats. I hope someone else found their daydreams of summer in an old rusty car and that they share its special ride to the places we all have tucked away in our hearts.