Clutch – Word of the Day
Photo: I never did discover who the owner was, but I was captivated by the beauty of the machine.
Faces All A Grin
If it could dance
this car would tango
it’s chassis would chasse
and holding the clutch in
pressure is building nicely
while the wheels begin to spin,
black smoke arises
there’s an old child within,
now letting out the clutch at last,
suddenly we’re airborne,
our faces all a grin.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Possibility – Word of the Day
I know the owner of this beautifully restored Morris “Woody.” When he bought it he could see what it would look like fully restored. He did much of the work himself, but outsourced to a friend the work he wasn’t skilled at doing. It was old and tired when he bought it, and once the old faded paint was stripped off, the upholstery, timber frame, wiring and more, were all refurbished, it looked as good as new. Michael could see the possibility of beauty and life, where few could.
Some of us have been around a while, a little over thirty. I’m not a great advocate of exterior renovation, but if that’s your thing, then go for it. I’m more for the interior renovation. I see possibilities in myself for change, for challenge, for renewal. And in my experience, when I actually engage with these interior processes, difficult as some may well be, the outcome is not only that I am different because I have grown, or moved in some way or direction, my view of others and of the world has shifted too. And what I do for myself affects those around me. Not only that, but if we persist and achieve some interior change, others may be encouraged, not just becase we have changed, because they can se ehope for their own journey.
But the question is, do we see impossibilities or possibilities in ourselves? Do we see beauty and life?
“They did not know it was impossible, so they did it.” Mark Twain
“When you have exhausted all possibilities, remember this, you haven’t.” Thomas Eddison
my heart yearns to change
a storm is raging in me
the pond is still
via Daily Prompt: Study
Yes it’s old, perhaps struggling to function on the day it was abandoned (which I think was around Boxing Day), punished by its owner, or at the very least, by those who stole it. The car gave everything and more as it was designed to do. I don’t grieve for machines normally, I’ve never named any of my machines (I do wonder if the robots soon to be more common among us will engender affection) as some are wont to do. I swear at them, perhaps that is a form of endearment 😀 I can be sentimental sometimes – I’ve kept my Tangerine Mac! But I don’t actually grieve machines. I grieve for life forms.
However, there is a sadness I feel for the disregard of the environment, the fire risk to the bush (I’m surprised it didn’t create a bush fire), the flora and fauna were at risk. But also a disregard for the possibility of redemption, even if it only meant recycling some of the parts. But what I really grieve is the thinking that wants to destroy, that sees no other possibility.
via Daily Prompt: Elegance
The British vintage car and mortorcycle show in Canberra (2016), a lot of the usual types, Austins, Rovers, Minis, Rolls, a Norton Comando, and a Triumph or two. All beuatifully restored and good on the eye. But then there was this, a roadster, and I forgot to note what it was exactly, my memory says Jaguar. But what I see is elegance, which is not something I would normally say about a mechanical object, but this one is smooth and sleek, a mechanical beauty, that draws me.
Filed under cars, history
via Daily Prompt: Degree
When you head north, especially inland, you need to be cautious about a number of things. Water supply, food, shelter, Eperb, and so on. Fuel is the other. We carried around sixty litres spare on board. We didn’t really need it, but at least it was there if we did. The photo shows fuel bowsers, all locked up. There’s a degree of caution in these parts due to theft and damage. If you want fuel, it’s still self-serve, once the attendant comes and unlocks the cage for you. In years gone by some of the young people out here turned to sniffing petrol to relieve the misery. But now they sell a low arromatic fuel that prevents you getting high, so it’s no longer a major problem. They sell diesel too. Nowadays, it’s pure theft, you can hot wire a pump just like a car, and with the cost of fuel out here, there’s a motive for some. So, as I was saying, a degree of caution …
via Daily Prompt: Percussive
We were waiting to make a dash for the car. It had been raining all afternoon, and now into the night. The rain was percussive, it was pinging off the metal of the car bodies, drumming on the bitumen, splashing in the puddles, and sounding like a rivet gun on the awning where stood. I love rain, it’s a sign of life, hope for life to come. Rain is refreshing, like petrichor, the smell ofrain on summer scorched earth. When I was a kid, I loved running around in the rain. I still don’t mind bush walking in the rain.
I love the sound of rain too, that percussion on a tin roof! I find gentle rain quite comforting, it’s like natures mantra.
And the song always comes to mind: ‘I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Has Gone.’ It’s like the rain somehow intervenes in my life, it overwhelms my senses, enables me to refocus. In some way, rain helps me to be more vulnerable, but most especially in the bush.
via Daily Prompt: Clutch
There’s more than the clutch that’s gone – most of the working parts are missing, stripped out over fifty years or more. Whoever abandoned it wasn’t in the position to reclaim it or fix it, and unlike today’s environmental concern there was no thought to that either. This one was a home for spiders and reptiles, so it was redeemed in that sense. Plus it has given back to many a passerby in that era, a battery, rims and tyres, gear box, steering wheel, cables and more. I can’t be certain but I think the birds took the stuffing from the seating as nesting material, the door was open so the invitation was there. This shell of a former car resides at Boondie Rock between Yellowdine and Koorarawalyee along the Boorrabin National Park (and near the Koora Retreat Centre).
The clutch hopefully went to a good cause, along with everything else. I like to think of it as recycling.