Grocery shopping for a weekend picnic, zipped into the grocery, shorts and a pink top, white wedge heels. No makeup except eye liner and lipstick.
As I was getting a cart and an other woman came up to me and said wow you have such great legs. I stammered out a thank you. Needless to say I was very flattered and on cloud nine.
another hot day with the sun roof open in the 72 Mark IV
Last night made it to the local cruise night as my friend "D" would be there with his amazing 64 Imperial convertible. I already had the Cadillac out as a result of an earlier grocery run, so why not?
The children were supposed to come but they opted to go shopping with "J" this time.
All that was left to do was get myself ready, yes I was a little over dressed but I thought I should match the outre nature of the car, so short skirt and heels.
now that is a steering wheel, careful how you sit, chrome centre bullet can reflect up ladies skirt
chrome inner ring is the horn
Had two proposals of marriage so long I came with the Cadillac.
beautiful night for a top down drive
Later on we met up with Genni for coffee and chatted well into the early morning hours....
At Ardene's last week and picked up a few cheap necklaces, including this retro sixties surfers cross.
Wow an iron cross and a banana bike, I would make a cool teenager circa 1966.
"J" immediately asks why I was wearing a swastika…..which immediately put me on mind of this rare slice of sixties wax by fellow Canuk, Debbie Lori Kaye, better known for her country music career.
Recorded in 1966 this Shangri-las, Ronettes style 45 attempted to capitalize on the "controversy" around kids wearing replica iron crosses.
The fad began amongst in Southern California's surfers:
World War I Ace Max Immelmann earned two, as did Corporal Adolf Hitler, and now U.S. teen-agers are buying them by the gross. Dug out of attics and curio shops and freshly minted by the thousands, the German Iron Cross has become the newest surfer's emblem and high school fad.
Nobody, except parents, seems upset by the Iron Cross's connotations. "When kids ask me about the 1939 inscription," says one distributor, "I just tell them it was a big year for surfing."
Time Magazine April 22, 1966
I can still vaguely remember them in grocery store gumball machines in the late seventies, edgy ;)
My old boss passed away the other day, no I don't know all the details yet. It doesn't matter a great car guy has gone. I have mixed feelings about him but we are all flawed creations. Who am I to cast stones.
It is hard to believe he is gone, he seemed a force of nature.
When I told him about me he did not recoil in horror or retreat into machismo disdain. For that I will always be grateful. If his reaction had been different I would have significantly delayed my transition.
I worked with him for a decade, travelled together across North America, waited in airports, rental cars, froze and sweated an countless film shoots.
He was a larger than life character as I think you can tell from the lead photo, he will be greatly missed by all who were lucky enough to be his friends.
I hope he is somewhere where the gas prices are low and the speed limits high. Long may you run.
The Big Guy at the wheel of my Corvette last season at Cayuga
Whether you believe in Valhalla or not (and I sincerely hope there is an afterlife) it is not for the dead to worry but rather those left behind to reflect on life.
I am happy that I no longer look at my life and despair, I have miles left to go but I am oh so very glad I am here and did what I needed to do.
Morning bike ride with children to the library on my vintage seventies CCM Cheetah
Lot to talk about so a few words as well as pictures for day 2.
Lucy asked in yesterdays comments, if the cars cause any consternation amongst the general public. I can't say they that I have noticed any but then I am not the most observant person but I am naturally highly tuned to any real or imagined indication I am not passing.
In traffic or the inevitable conversations at the gas pumps most people simply take one at face value or assume the car belongs to a husband or boyfriend. As soon as they talk to be they know it is mine. The rockabilly, rat rod culture has seen more and more woman building or driving their own cars and not just as Bettie Page eye candy….not that I wouldn't mind being both.
When out in the Cadillac convertible on the weekend an older guy pulled up and said that the 59 was his dream car and asked if I could adopt him. His parting words were, "I bet you have to beat them off with a stick and I don't mean because of the car." Well that made my day.
But pride cometh before the fall.
Yesterday I dropped off a resume for a position at a very large Mercedes agent, I believe it is one of their world flagship stores. I made sure I was well dressed, grey suit and black silk blouse, appropriate length black skirt and heels.
A bit of an odd situation as candidates were asked to deliver resumes in person (no doubt so one could be pre screened judged on appearance). It was not my first choice as jobs go but I treated it as a test of my confidence. Could I walk in there and both pass and make a good impression.
Exiting the Lincoln I entered through the big double doors, my heels clicking like gun shoots over the marble floors. All eyes turned my way. I was immediately pounced on by the concierge. She was dressed very very nicely with very high designer heels and could have easily been a model.
I had to wait a few minutes while she tried to find the person I had to see (as they have a gender neutral name, I was not sure if it would be a man or a woman). My potential boss turned out to be a woman and was if anything even more attractive and well dressed than the concierge. Looking as if she stepped out of Vogue in a pale aqua dress I felt like a line backer in a frock from Walmart.
We conversed for a minute, all interviews would take place after the long weekend. I thanked the super model and walked out, head held high, not looking back afraid that I would see them laughingly putting my resume in the round file.
I should not be so chagrined, woman have been judged on their appearance in the workforce forever.
Contemplating my lack of super model good looks but more importantly I am sure I have a cooler set of wheels
Thought I would try something new and tell my story through photos this week, yes a post everyday for seven days, talk about aiming high. Please send embarrassing praise or hate mail to comments section.
About to head out on emergency Taco Hell run in the 1972 Mark IV
The Mark cooling down after a highway run, just like the 59 Caddy this car loves the interstate and hates puttering around town.
Missing my Vette, vintage seventies "Wrap YourAss in Fiberglass" t-shirt, cleaning the house in preparation for visit by friends from university days. The colour is in this season!
Guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses......
And without.
Lake Ontario at twilight, park where I have taken children to play a few times last week to expend end of day energy
On the weekend I cleaned the garage, the poor 59 Cadillac was surrounded by boxes, tools, tires and the trunk had become an impromptu storage area of other projects. By the end of the weekend I had freed her from imprisonment but had not had time to get her started.
Tuesday afternoon I began the usually laborious process of bringing her back to life. Once the battery received a top up charge the huge gold twin snorkel air cleaner would be removed revealing the tri-power carburetor set up. My 59 has the optional Q engine option, the standard 390 being equipped with three two barrel carburettors. Similar to a 64 GTO but with a vacuum operated instead of progressive linkage.
If you leave her sitting for more than a week or two the fuel drains back from the carbs and the centre carb must be primed before starting. Using a small cup of high test, small amounts of gasoline are dribbled into the carb and then the car cranked until the fuel pump can deliver suck enough from the tank to fill the centre carbs bowl and fuel line.
She wanted to run and obliged by bursting into life almost immediately, within minutes she was backed out into the bright sunlight. The AM tube radio had quit working last season and I took a few minutes to examine the wiring under the dash. The goddess of vintage cars was smiling and it turned out to be just a fuse. Once a 9 Amp fuse was located and the tubes warmed up The Ronettes came blasting through the speakers, magical. I just sat there in the warm summer sunshine listening Ronnie's amazing voice making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
Later the girls and I took her on cruise along the lakeshore and to a park to fly kites, a lovely evening. Later I met my friend (another Cadillac fan) for coffee. On the way home much too late with the top down in the cool night air, Bobby Darrin singing, Beyond the Sea I felt like I was in a scene from Mad Men, Betty rather than Don of course.
Oh one more car story, five minutes into our maiden voyage, the Caddy starts to run rough and we can smell gas. I pull over into a side street shut her down and pop the hood (yes I do have a fire extinguisher in the trunk). No flames but the rear carb was wet with fuel, most likely the float had stuck. No tools on hand I improvised and grabbed the hard plastic comb in my handbag, a few whacks on the fuel bowl and we were back on the road!
I will adore you for eternity…
well worn copy of the 59 shop manual
Yes the 59 is the car I am considering selling to fund FFS, a car I have owned since I was 16 and although I know it shouldn't be it is a hard decision. Car guys and gals will understand.
