Oh, I like this! A customized and chopped vintage Volkswagen with a glorious hotrod engine! Looks like a ’56 to me. The gearshift almost poking through the sunroof has a skull knob, too (hard to see). My brother @RudeBoyRobbo shot this iPhone video on the street in downtown Austin back in April. He drives a pedicab, and if you’re ever in Austin, tweet him up for a ride.
All of which reminds me that I don’t see nearly enough of my siblings. This will not do. Another reason for my wife and I to find a better home, so people can visit once in a while. And with our ducks in a row, we could get away ourselves. I’m done with working so hard to be a hermit. That’s what years of worrying you’re no good will get you: not a damn thing, really…
So much bullshit gone under the bridge. Thank you, older generation, now all dead. Why were you scared of brilliance? What was wrong with art? Where did you hide your joy? Why didn’t you even trust yourselves?
One of the things I used to do when I was a teenager in Abilene, TX to escape the tension at home was buy a copy of Hot Rod magazine each month and lose myself inside the pages. No one has any idea how sacred and beautiful that was for me. To this day, the sight of a fine custom car or motorcycle fills my heart with love for the machine, love for whoever built it, love for my own self—it all goes ’round and ’round and gets me all excited and sometimes makes me cry. This must be one reason I appreciate Chicano car culture so much. Self-affirmation, pride, family, and all. Check out Art Meza’s work (@Chicano_Soul) on Etsy to dig just what I’m talking about. Dude knows from car love, chilluns. Mucho respecto.
Those days are also how I know what “chopped” means when referring to a car. Do you? I almost added “channeled,” but you can’t do that with an old VW, because it has no frame rails, har. This knowledge pleases me. No doubt it still will when I’m dead.