Yesterday afternoon, I was all excited about seeing the Wienermobile (which pulled into the supermarket lot almost 2 hours later than its scheduled arrival, to much ballyhoo), & I took a boatload of pix, but for some reason, the flash card I was using turned stubborn on me, when I tried to download, so I'm still trying to retrieve the many close-ups of the rolling dog. Nevertheless, the evening was less of a techno-waste.
You couldn't ask for better weather for this event! It was sunny and mild, the temperature just barely capping 86 degrees Fahrenheit, with a gentle breeze coming from the west. I threw caution to the winds and went out without my cane, wearing crappy lightweight shoes with little support. I knew I would regret my choice later, but I was feeling reckless. Besides, I had a trunkload of my meds, so I figured I was covered. I was certainly sunscreened into the next decade...except for my earlobes. Hmmph. Mental note: lobes burn, too.
At a little past 5, I found a parking space literally right next to the gate, as it were. Somebody had vacated a corner space, so I gave my obligatory chant to Olga, the goddess of parking: "Olga, Olga, full of grace! Thank you for this parking space" (I find I'm too much of a traditionalist to go with my younger sister's version, "Olga, Olga, you're so hot! Thank you for the parking spot!").
Anyway, from there, I roamed past the Midwest Mudrunners' trucks, the restored Bentley, the dozens of Corvettes, and (be still my heart) the Wienermobile,
as it rested right at the Town Square. By that time, I had run out of memory in my backup flash card, so I have only a smattering of pix to show for all my hour of hiking.
I met up with ex sailorette just before 6, & we wandered a short while, admiring the cars, then settled in to watch over her brother's De Lorean while the owner did his own sight-seeing. During the course of our car-sitting, a teen-aged boy came a-salivating, followed closely by three girls a-giggling.
It was fun to watch other people gawk and ogle in the way I did the other cars... the De Lorean is in the process of being dressed up to match the one in "Back to the Future". I think ex sailorette said they were only a clock and a couple of prop wires away from a total match.
Anyway, while we sat there, unbeknownst to us, we got our photo taken for the local rag, the Daily Review Atlas (whose editors very kindly print my weekly columns, at no cost to me). I've scanned the pic as it appeared on the back page of today's edition (I'm the one sitting on the curb, by the rear bumper, she's in her spiffy new wheelchair).
About an hour later, ex sailorette and I were relieved of our watch, so we wandered up South Main Street to look at the roughly 120 cars we had not yet studied. I admit, this show is a car restorer's greatest fantasy and biggest nightmare. There were classics, souped-up machines, and a handful of beaters asking for somebody to take them to a good home and show them some loving. All I could hear myself thinking was, "If I won the lottery..." There wasn't any single vehicle there that I saw in my dreams, last night -- it was a parade of the best of the best. Still, if I had to choose, it would have to have been one of those lovely muscle cars, like the '60s Chargers, or maybe the '40s Cadillacs, instead.
Mmmmmm... Better even than the funnel cake! And worth all the pain I'm feeling today!